Homeworld Bound
by Jon-Berry
Summary: The Ragtag Fleet encounters a post-Cataclysm Somtaaw leading to their emergence into the galaxy at large. Abandoned due to story being proof-of-concept for something that never panned out.
1. Draft Prologue

This was the "official" Prologue to the story to help set the time and the tone. Between this and the previous piece, I had settled on a proper name for the fic, "Homeworld Bound". I had also set down when I wanted this fic to take place. The Prolouge below is the result of an alternate result to the nBSG episode "Lay Down Your Burdens", where there was no misjump on the way to Caprica. This meant that Roslyn won the election instead of Baltar. This leads Baltar to talk Gina out of detonating the nuclear weapon aboard the Cloud Nine. On the Homeworld side fo things, I set it 18-24 (later established 22) months after the end of the HW:C campaign. This was to give the Somtaaw time to settle into their new role as a minor Warrior Kiith.

**Cloud Nine, Colonial Exodus Fleet**

**Day of the Election**

Gina stared down at the nuclear weapon, stolen by her Gaius because she asked for it. She wanted to start the countdown, to end it all, but in her hurting mind, there were two objections. The first one was practical. Even sitting here, she wouldn't die. The nuclear weapon would go off, and the next thing she knew, she would be awaking at the Ressurection Hub, her brothers and sisters there to greet her cheerfully.

What was the use in dieing when one couldn't die?

And there was the more important question. "What would he think of me?"

"Think of what?"

Gina spun around, her heart racing at the thought that she was discovered. That the Colonial Marines were waiting for her, to arrest her and return her to that hell that Cain put her through.

But it was Gaius who stood there, looking disheveled and tired. He smiled when their eyes met, and Gina knew she couldn't detonate the bomb. Not when it would hurt him. "Nothing. No, nothing. So, Mr President, what can I do for you?" With a mental start, she realized that she was crying, and moved to wipe away the tears. "I voted for you, you know."

"I'm not president, Gina." Batar moved into the room, closing the door behind him. "Roslin won, though not by much." He looked her up and down, noting the lack of clothes. "Are you cold?" he asked as he removed his jacket, stepping in close to the Cylon, and draping it over her shoulders.

Gina shivered at the touch and when she looked at Baltar to thank him for his kindness, she saw in his eyes a manifest sadness. "Gaius?" she asked as she pulled the jacket closer. "What do you see in me? In us?"

Baltar, for his part, knew full well what the question meant, and his muse appeared, an idealized Six with pure platinum hair and curve hugging red dress. "Yes Gaius. What do you see? Do you see a toy to be used? A machine that is broken?" She sneered, an expression that marred her face. "Well?"

But Gaius shook his head. "I don't know what I see, Gina. I know who you are. What you are. Where you are from. But I don't know where you..., where we are going. You, me, all of us, Cylon and Human... I just don't know." The emotional impact of his loss was starting to catch up to him. He tried so hard to win, to remove that Schoolteacher from power, only to fail.

On instinct, he stepped closer to Gina, only to find that she did not recoil from his presence. Instead she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close. "Can we go together?" Only later would neither of them admit that they asked that question.

**Presidental Office, Colonial One**

**Same Day**

Laura Roslin relaxed in her chair. Her chair. She smiled under closed eyes. The election results were close, some last minute maneuvering by Zarek had gotten Baltar closer in the polls; the second debate was far better for him than the first, that was for sure.

First came the concession call from Gaius, then he had vanished. She didn't need to know where he went. Didn't want to know either. His business was his own. Then came the congradulations from Admiral Adama and Major Lee. She had taken them with a certain gratefulness. Then came the reporters. All the frakking reporters. At least Biers had enough sense not to ask too many improper questions, although she really wanted to punch that woman out for implying that she and Bill had an affair.

Now she was relaxing, trying to take a nap before the next order of business. Laura wanted to loose track of the time and was pleasently surprised when she did, only to be brought back to reality by her Tory's presence. Her aide waited for the president to finish fumbling her glasses back into place upon her face before clearing her throat. "Madame President, he's here."

Smiling, Laura thanked her, asking her to show her guest in. Seconds later, Tom Zarek strode in, hands in his pockets. The two of them looked eachother in the face, trying to guage the other. "Roslin. Well done." Zarek broke the silence first. "Now, what can I do for you?"

The smile never left her face, although the reason for it changed from simple political necessity to honest amusement. "So, I hear that you are retaining your seat on the Quorum." Best to start with an easy question. She had learned these lessons the hard way from all the press confrences she has held over the past year.

Zarek nodded. No sense in denying it; he was actually hoping to be Vice-President under Baltar, but still held his Quorum seat just in case. "True." He took the seat across the desk from the President. "Although I suppose that isn't why you called me here. You could have had one of your minions do that for you." He glanced at Tory, whose own reaction was one of impassivity in the face of the insult.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about whom the Quorum will be voting on for the position of Vice-President."

Zarek pondered that for a moment. "You want to know if we'll vote for Baltar again, after he's lost the election?"

Laura shook her head. "Oh, no. You and I both know that for all his talents, Gaius' lay not in Politics. You should know that more than anyone else, having run his campaign. Very well done, I must add."

Zarek's eyes narrowed. If she wasn't going to nominate Baltar, who else was there? She couldn't use either Adama – the laws of the Twelve Colonies prevented such a situation. And that left... "You wouldn't."

Her smile never left her face.

Damn that woman! Tom raged on the inside. He was an excellent choice, having served on the Quorum for the past few months, establishing ties with the other members. And running the bastard campaign... He really did that because he knew Gaius was easy to manipulate, he could be the real power with Gaius' face.

"So, does that mean that I will be close, or closer?"

"Your choice."

**Admiral's Quarters, Battlestar Galactica**

**Same Day**

"Come in Saul." Adama didn't look up from the paperwork in front of him as his XO closed the hatch behind him. "Have a seat."

Tigh took the offer. "Drink?" he asked, looking at the glasses in front of him and the bottle that indicated that Tyrol's still was unhindered.

The Admiral shook his head. "No. How's the wife?"

"A screetching harpy." Saul sighed. "I wouldn't have her any other way."

Adama hid his knowing smirk well. "Well, there was something I wanted to bring up with you and I just couldn't find a reason to put it off any longer. It's about the Pegasus."

Saul's eyes rose. "Problem with Lee?"

"No. Not really. But it a way, I suppose. He needs an XO."

The Colonel relexively reached for a drink, but stopped himself half-way. "You want to send me to keep an eye on Lee?"

Adama nodded. "I want someone I trust, someone experienced." He put down one piece of paper, apparently satisfied, and picked up another.

"Damn, Bill." Saul leaned back. "Isn't there anyone else who can do the job?"

Adama shook his head. "No. If I send you over, I'll promote and train someone over here."

"Who do you have in mind."

"I was thinking Agathon."

"... the FRAK? Bill! There are better qualified people. Gaeta for one. Hell, Dee is better qualified!" Saul stared at the Old Man, wondering what was going through his head.

"I can't trust either of them, Saul. You know why where Gaeta is concerned." Saul paused, recalling the attempt to fix the vote – not that it was needed in the end. "And Dee is sleeping with Lee."

Saul's jaw dropped. "Huh?" he finally managed to spit out. "Dee? But wasn't she seeing Bil... oh, frak." Now he saw why Adama had to pass the two of them over. "But Helo..? The toaster...!"

Adama put down the papers and sighed. "It's not like I have a lot of choice in the matter, Saul. Their baby is dead and she's barely eating. I can keep Karl here on the Galactica, in case Caprica-Sharon decides to start talking again. And I want to try and rebuild some trust there. With both of them."

Saul looked down. "Let me talk to my wife. Maybe she'll approve of a change of scenery."

**Command Module, Somtaaw Explorer Class Kuun-Lan**

**21 Hiigaran months after the Destruction of the Naagarok**

Bra Nabaal ka Somtaaw shuffled nervously as he took his place at the Tactical Control for the _Kuun-Lan_. He had applied to join the Kiith Somtaaw soon after their return from the Beast War, one of a great many who were eager to join the rising star of the small Kiith. He hadn't expected much, but by some miracle, he had found himself aboard the legendary ship itself.

Saajuk moved in mysterious ways, it seemed.

He walked around the central holographic display, currently showing a live image of everything within 300km. The _Kuun-Lan_ was in the center, surrounded by two Deacons and a couple of Dervishes. The majority of strike-craft were docked, but 5 ACVs were currently escorting a quartet of Workers and a Processor who were themselves slowly reducing a resource-rich asteroid to its component elements.

But the majority of the military strength normally seen with the _Kuun-Lan_ was elsewhere. The Daiamid had called up the ship and her fleet to reinforce a shared sector with the Taiidan Republic that was under unusual levels of Turanic piracy.

Out here, near the Great Wastelands, the _Kuun-Lan_ had divided her force into three prongs – each led by either one of the Archangels, or the single Shaman, with the _Kuun-Lan_ herself sitting in the rear to coordinate.

Of course, all of this didn't really pass through the mind of Bra. No, what occupied his mind right now was the presence of Teigor Somtaaw, the Fleet Command himself. The middle-aged Hiigaran was one of the ones who was awake during the Homeworld War, having served on a Resource Collector during the conflict. He didn't really cut an imposing figure sitting in his chair, but beneath his thin frame was the one who brought the Beast to heel, and shamed the Bentusi into helping the Kiith.

Some, both within the Kiith and without, felt that he should have used his power to remove the Kiith-sa from their positions for their errors in judgement that lead to the Beast War. Instead he had retained command of the Kuun-Lan and her forces, helping defend his people from the front-lines, not in some political position back on Hiigara.

And he was just sitting there, casually watching the young Bra as he made his rounds. Because of that, Bra made certain that everything was in order. The Intelligence Section was busy reading reports from the adjacent sectors about their current efforts. Science was playing a game while the computers crunched numbers concerning the latest tests to reverse engineer the black-box components of the Bentusi Acolyte fighters. Navigation, having nothing to do given that the _Kuun-Lan_ wasn't moving, was playing against Science, loosing badly by the looks of things. Engineering reported that they were fiddling with the Siege Cannon, hoping to improve it so that containment so that the shot would not disperse with the impact the size of something the size of a fighter.

After admonishing the two gamers, Bra returned his attention to the holo-display. Quiet days in the past, but looking out, he couldn't help but wonder when that would end.


	2. Second Draft Prologue

This was my first try at writing this story – a deliberate proof-of-concept as well as to test the waters for a reaction. At first I didn't really have anything planned beyond this and so I jumped around a lot moving the actions forward without much development or characterization.

Some concepts and ideas I kept into later drafts and into the story proper, while some wound up on the cutting-room floor due to me setting certain other ideas in stone.

**CiC, Battlestar Galactica**

"Jump completed." Dee's voice rang clear, allowing Adama and Tigh to take a calming breath. A moment's pause, then "All ship have reported in."

Adama nodded. "Lunch the CAP." Tigh repeated the order and within seconds a pair of Vipers were catapaulted from their launch tubes and into space.

"DRADIS reports no other contacts." The CON officer said as his eyes scanned the dsiplay. "Just us and the rocks, sir."

"Nice to have some quiet." Tigh mumbled where only Adama could hear him. "Athena found us a nice supply of fuel; hate to have the toasters drop in with out pants down."

The old man shook his head, giving a terse smile. "Don't worry too much. Haven't seen any Cylons in several jumps. Well, those that don't fly for us."

Tigh snorted. "Still. I'll order the mining ships into position."

Adama gave his permission, then excused himself to his quarters.

**Viper CAP**

Starbuck swung her nose around, making another leg on her patrol route, Hotdog mimiced her movements perfectly. "Stay with me," she ordered, "don't go off to see the pretty sights."

Hotdog snorted back at her over the radio. "Sure. You know, for an asteroid belt, it's pretty empty out here."

"Of, for frak's sakes. What the hell do they teach you nuggets at the Academy? Space is big!"

"I wouldn't know, Starbuck. You were my teacher!"

"Don't remind me."

**Command Module, Somtaaw Explorer Kuun-Lan**

**40 Minutes later**

"That weird." The sensors operator fidded with some of the controls. Still unsure of his readings, he passed his concerns up the chain of command. "Sir? I think I detected someone jumping in, but the energy spike was off."

Fleet Command came down to where the operator sat. "Show me."

Commands were typed into the computer, and a repeat of the display emerged. It showed a small region of space 40 light-minutes away in the same asteroid belt the Kiith Somtaaw was currently mining in. Energy readings spiked, and now it seemed like there was something more in that area.

"What do we have in the area?" After dealing with the Beast, he was not the sort of man to take chances.

"Not much, sir. We already gave that region a casual sweep when we arrived in-system, but nothing after that."

"Damn. Task a Deacon and two wings of Acolytes to head over there. Tell them to take care. Communications!" Fleet Command raised his head to shout across the bridge. "I'm sending you some coordinates. Send a greeting message there, and keep an ear out for a response."

"Aye, sir."

**CiC, Galactica**

85 minutes after arrival

Dee was busy and bored. She was handling the comms traffic coming in and out of the Galactica, the latest message was from Starbuck and Hotdog who were coming in to land after their CAP. They were being replaced by Apollo and Dragon. Before that was a packet of personal messages from the Astral Queen, and before that was the usual hourly request for an update from the President.

So the arrival of a confusing signal across all bands raised mental alarms. "Holy Frak! What the?" She scrambled for a moment, quickly eliminating the ship after ship in the Fleet as being the source of the signal. No Raptors either, and the Vipers couldn't do that. That the signal persisted made that process easier.

"What is it, Dee?" Tigh looked up at her from the center of the room.

"I don't know sir. Communications signal on all frequencies. It's not in Colonial. And it's not coming from anyone in the fleet."

Tigh's face tightened up. That could only mean one thing. "Set Condition One throughout the Fleet. Get the Old Man up here, now!"

The Galactica quickly swung into action as fighters were readied for launch and weapons checked. Dradis scanned space looking for the first signs of Cylon ships jumping in to attack the fleet while civilian ships began to spin up their jumpdrives.

Adama arrived within minutes, and seeing Saul not at the center console, but hovering over Dee, made his way there. "What is it?"

It was Tigh's turn to admit confusion. "Don't know. It's a directed comm signal directed at us from outside the fleet. But it isn't Colonial, or anything in Cylon we know of."

"Where is it from?"

"Deep space. Seems like its about 40 light-minutes away. Well outside Dradis range. And the President is on the horn."

Adama scowled, doing the math in his head. 40 minutes out, 5 minutes there, then 40 back meant that whatever was out there knew where they were. And the Galactica was 40 minutes behind the times. "Can't be Cylon. They'd jump in on us and start shooting. Visuals from the telescopes?"

"Being processed now sir. Should we send a reply?" Dee looked to Adama for orders.

"Do it. Ask them who they are and why they're so far out from the Colonies. And I'll take the President down there." Adama indicated the center console, and the hardline there.

Saul and him went down there, both glancing at the status updates from the fleets. Behind them, Dee was speaking into a microphone - "This is the Colonial Battlestar Galactica, BSG-75 to unknown ships. Please identify."

The two men took their places at the center where Saul spoke up. "Can't be Cylons, they'd start shooting. But if they were Colonial, wouldn't they use Colonial codes? Who the frak are they?"

Adama held up one hand to indicate that he was still thinking that answer through while the other hand picked up the hardline. "Madame President, we have unknown contacts at extreme distance..."

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**

**130 minutes after Arrival**

Fleet Command had recalled the Decon and her escort. The unknown contacts were too far away for his ships to arrive any time soon. They had sent greetings in Hiigaran, Turanic, Taiidan and Bentusi. Now they were waiting for a reply.

And it just came in. "Αυτό είναι το αποικιακό γαλαξίας αστεριών μάχης..." The gibberish same through in the clear, but there were only confused looks around the bridge. "Did anyone catch any of that?" Fleet Command asked, confusion played across his face. "Anyone? Please?"

A host of negatives came back at him. "What are they doing?" This last question was directed at the man who was watching the radar.

"They look like they are pulling into a defensive formation behind this large ship here." he pointed at a blot bigger than the others. "It's either a large Super-Cap or a small Mothership in size, but we're too far away to get any more details. We need to get closer to get better resolution."

"Alright. If we don't have translation on what they're saying in an hour, plot a jump that will take us 10 light-seconds away from them." That was close enough to get a better look at them and far enought away that these new people wouldn't be spooked. He hoped.

**CiC, Galactica**

**140 minutes after arrival**

"You know, I'm so used to us being close to other ships. This long distance is kind weird." The fire control officer leaned over to talk to the damage controll coordinator. Down below, the Old Man and Tigh were talking. The Galactica had managed to locate the mysterious ships, and noted that there were some drive plumes that had initially been headed towards them, then turned around.

They had counted 1 ship and almost a dozen fighters in that small group which had turned back towards the source of the alien transmission.

That was the watchword rushing around the ship and the fleet. Aliens, or Earth. Ships that didn't appear in any data base, using no known language... The rumors were rampant. Even the resident Cylon seemed genuinely surprised at the news.

Of course, given the distance between them and the aliens, the Admiral has allowed the fleet to relax its defenses a bit, the Galactica moving to better cover the mining operation still in progress.

Across from them, Dee had finally finished digging into the stacks of manuals that came with her duty station. Pulling out the old yellow binder, she confirmed its contents before going down to Adama, leaving her station in the hands of her offshift replacement.

"Admiral, Colonel." The young woman put the binder on the table before them, opened to the first page. "Here they are. The First Contact Protocols."

Saul looked at the binder with apprehension. "It's a little small, isn't it?"

"No one has ever used them before." Adama explained. "Before now, this was just an intellectual exercise. Something that back room Commanders, Admirals and Scientists put together, and occasionally refined. It's required reading for all Commanders, but never really taken seriously."

"Well, we have to take it seriously now." Tigh flipped the pages. "Dee, have you read this?"

"Yes sir." Dee took the binder from the Colonel and went back to the first page. "The Protocols tried to make as few assumptions as possible about who, or what we could encounter. But some things are impossible."

"Oh?" Adama was still racking his mind for what he remembered, but there wasn't a lot.

"Yes sir. After ascertaining that the contacted ship or people were not Colonia, or Cylon for that matter, we were supposed to send an escort or Raptor back to the Colonies to get Fleet to put together a proper team. Most of the instructions involved for us involve not starting a shooting gallery, as well as establishing basic communications."

"Well, we can't do the first. So how are we gonna do the second?" Saul glared at the DRADIS display that still showed the small fleet so far away.

"There were two major suggestions. First was to use normal radio, which both of us are using, so we should keep using that. The other idea was to flash the ship's light in patterns."

Saul and Adama considered that. Space ships were often self-lit to help in navigation and throwing a breaker to use the entire ship as some sort of on-off signal generator held a certain primitive simplicity to it.

"Well, it was assumed that any aliens would not know Caprican, or even Kobol, so it was decided that there was one thing that was universal, and didn't depend on words."

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**

**185 minutes after arrival**

"Five minute warning." The hyperspace drive was charged, and Fleet Command had sent the Deacon he had deployed earlier to short-jump to the nearest Hiigara military Outpost to request assistance. They would arrive in a few hours, then a few more before any ships could respond.

"Sir! Signal from Unknown Prime!" That was the designation given to the largest ship in the other fleet, obvious given its massive size in comparison to its escorts.

"Put it up."

A carrier signal sounded over the comms, then it dropped off. 'beep.' Silence. 'beep beep' 'beep beep beep'

"Huh?" "Shh!"

'beep beep beep beep beep'

"One, two, three, five. Next should be seven.'

'be-beep beep beep'

"Five plus 2?"

"They use base five math?" Fleet Command filed that away for further use as the Signal from Unknown Prime died away. He made his decision. No way he could conduct a discussion when it took the better part of an hour to be heard. "Make the jump on schedule. When we arrive, we'll use their system for numbers and send them a signal for the numbers eleven, thirteen, seventeen, nineteen and twenty-three."

"Prime numbers. A very basic start." The Communications officer commented.

"Fleet, all strike craft are docking and our Capital Ships are ready to jump with us. All remote mining ops have been notified of our move."

"Thank you."

"Two minute warning."

**CiC, Galactica**

**190 minutes after arrival**

Adama hated having Baltar on his bridge, but there was no one else in the fleet who could 'Speak Math' at somone. Baltar and Dee had been pouring over the technical details of the First Contact Protocols, while he and Saul had refreshed themselves on the non-scientific aspects.

"At least we don't have to invite them aboard." Saul commented as he flipped a page. "The guys back at Fleet Anchorage felt that it wasn't worth the contamnation risks involved."

Adama hrumphed in response. The Protocols called for a specialized team to be assembled from the Colonies to deal with things. Officially his job was to keep station and wait. But that couldn't happen. "The President was very insistant that we don't shoot them."

"She does realize that we couldn't hit them at this range, right?"

"So I told her. And that they weren't firing at" his sentence was cutoff when the DRADIS operator yelled out excitedly.

"CONTACT! CONTACT! CONTACT! Multiple contacts, 10 light-seconds out, Xeno One through Xeno 12 just jumped in!"

"What the frak? DEE!"

"On it!"

"I hope that wasn't supposed to be an attack. Their aim was horrible." Saul comment dryly as Dee rushed back to her station. "Should we rotate the ship to face them?"

Adama paused. Move to protect the fleet at the risk of possibly seeming aggressive? But the Alien fleet hadn't fired anything yet."

"Signal from Xeno One!" Dee called out, a moments confusion crossing her face. "It's the numbers sir. Seven... Eleven... ... Thirteen..."

Adama was grateful. Apparently the others had seen fit to come to them to make communications easier. "Dee. You and Baltar keep working on talking Math and Science to them. Contact Apollo and tell him to keep station between us and them. And tell the rest of the fleet to take their fingers off the Jump buttons. We don't want anyone panicking."

"Aye sir."

**Viper CAP**

Apollo heard the news about the sudden jump, and was already on his way to intercept any fighters launched by the other ships when Dee's voice came on to tell him to take up a sentry position. He confirmed the order, then signaled Dragon to follow.

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**

**195 minutes after arrival**

"Sir, Unknown Prime has two strike craft, look about the size of recon fighters on station between us and them. They're not taking a threatening posture."

"Acknowledged. What else can we see?" Fleet Command looked at the tactical display as new information came up.

"Unknown Prime is now firmly classed as a light mothership. We're counting two strikecraft bays on her sides. But the rest of the fleet... By Saajuk, there's no thing alike! I see what looks a wheel-ship that's actually spinning, and a refinery ship and a miner near that asteroid. There's no order to them! It's like someone just grabbed about 50 ships, gave them a mothership for escort, and sent them on their way!"

"Don't jump to conclusions!" Fleet snapped. "Once we have language sorted out, we'll ask them. Until then, keep making observations, and log them."

"Aye sir."

"Comms, how are we getting along?"

"Excellent sir. Whoever's on the other end is good. We're out of basic maths and moving on to elements."

"Keep it going."

"Aye sir."

**CiC, Galactica**

**200 Minutes after arrival**

Adama watched the DRADIS. Apollo's CAP had been reinforced by another pair of Vipers and a Raptor outfitted for SWACS duty. What he noticed was that every fighter he sent out to stationkeeping was matched by another from Xeno One. But the size of the Dradis returns indicated that the other fighters were easilly three to four times the size of his own. "Is this their show of strength, or do they have nothing smaller?"

"Huh?" Saul put down his cup of... well, it was swill - to look at the Old Man.

"The other fighters." Adama explained his concerns.

"If they think that's small, I'd hate to see what's big."

Adama nodded, then looked over to the Comms center where Dee and Baltar were busy signaling and being signaled in return. "I hope we can talk to them soon. President and the fleet are getting nervous."

"I'm nervous. First Contact with an alien species? That's not something that you really get trained for in the Academy."

Adama nodded in agreement. He noted when a rating hurried into the CiC, folders cluched against her chest. "Admiral. Colonel." She spread the folders on the console, pictures splashing out of them. "Details on the Xeno fleet."

The two men looked over the pictures while the woman talked. "The Galactica is easilly larger than any three Xeno ships, sirs. We've seen less in the way of weapons on them, but they could be buried under armor."

Saul snorted. "What the frak is up with Xeno One? That huge bulge on one side, and her symmetry is busted. Must be damn hard to calculate maneuvers for her. And the others don't look much better. I mean, a ship that looks like a thick "C" with engines centered away from the ends? That makes no engineering sense."

Adama was about to point out that it could be a matter of aesthetics when a triumphant shout came from Baltar. "THEY BREATHE AIR!"


	3. Official Prologue

This second prologue was never meant to start the story. It was a short piece that made a few changes that I wanted to practice on before incorporating into the actual story. First was the inclusion of proper names for the Somtaaw characters. Brea Nabaal ka Somtaaw is a pure Original Character whom I planned to have serve as my Somtaaw viewpoint character. Teigor Somtaaw's name came from the Homeworld wiki as a 'named' Somtaaw. I took that and applied it to Fleet Command.

Another thing I started to incorporate was a firm timeline. Every section to my posts included a 'when' to it and I often found myself going back and tweaking times to account for the distances and speeds involved in the story.

I also picked up my first proofreaders after this part – thank you Alamo and Kusari on .

**CnC, Battlestar Galactica**

**Arrival +0 Minutes**

"Jump completed." Karl Agathon called out, glancing at Adama as the Old Man nodded. At the Communications station, Dee counted off the signals from the ships as they arrived in formation around the Battlestar. Once all were accounted for, she called out that information and a certain tenseness in the room went away.

"Deploy the CAP." Adama ordered, Karl mimicking the order. A moment later, two new contacts appeared, ID'd as the Vipers flown by Apollo and Dragon. Minutes passed, silence reigning in the heart of the Galactica. Finally Adama spoke up. "Nothing here but us and the rocks. Contact the Fleet. Stand down to Condition Three. Tell them to start mining."

"Aye sir." Dee quickly turned to the band of frequencies reserved for messages from the Galactica to all the ships in the fleet. After she gave the word, the Fleet came alive with the sounds of radio chatter and shuttles deployed to move people and supplies around.

**Viper CAP**

**Arrival +5 Minutes**

Apollo swung his nose around, making another leg on his patrol route. He didn't need to tell Dragon to stay on his wing, the tattooed pilot was very professional, but also very quiet. Although the Fleet had jumped into what was, officially, an Asteroid Field, it was empty when compared to the Tylium Asteroid that he had helped secure a bare month after the Exodus began.

Space was big, he reminded himself. But the nature of the Jump drive meant that a lot of it was skipped over, save for the interesting parts.

But this wasn't interesting in the least. Just the blackness of space, the bright light of the distant unnamed primary and the running lights of the Fleet.

**Command Module, Somtaaw Explorer Kuun-Lan**

**Arrival +40 Minutes**

Brea Nabaal ka Somtaaw was one of those who had joined the rising star of the Somtaaw after their victories against the Beast. He was unhappy with the path of his previous Kiith and applied to transfer. It had been accepted and somehow had found himself given a berth aboard the legendary Kuun-Lanherself.

Although he was a third shift Sensor Operator, watching the space around the ship should anyone be dumb enough to try and jump in unannounced. He was especially tense given that the duty rotation meant that the Kiith-sa Teigor Somtaaw, the Fleet Command himself was currently sitting in the center chair, watching the holographic projection of local space in silence

That's why he noticed the very distant smudge of an energy spike. Uncertain of what it was; he quickly eliminated a background astronomical event. He tasked some unused sensors to examine that region, noting that whatever it was had since faded out, leaving him with only the automatic records. It wasn't a glitch in the system, two checks confirmed that. "What is that?" he asked himself as he hunched over his console.

"What is what?" Brea almost had a heart attack as the voice of the Kiith-sa came from right behind him. The parts of him that froze in terror and those that wanted to jump and run in fear balanced out in just the right manner to get him to snap to attention.

"Sir! Ah, I saw something that seemed out of place and I was trying to get more information on it!"

Fleet Command chuckled. "Relax, son. Contrary to popular belief, I won't throw people out the airlock for being certain in their results. Show me what you have, please."

Nodding, Brea pulled up a loop of the energy spike that attracted his attention. "It looks like a jump signature. But it's fast. Almost instantaneous."

"So I see. Do we have any ships in the area?" Teigor's voice betrayed nothing but casual curiosity.

"Not really. That was one of the first things I checked. We have nothing in that direction." Brea calmed down a little bit now that it was apparent that the Kiith-sa wasn't about to punish him. For his part, Teigor pondered ordering a Deacon to short-jump over there to investigate.

Officially, the Kuun-Lan was in this sector as a reserve military vessel, helping the Hiigaran Fleet and their Republic allies combat Turanic piracy. And so far, things had been very quiet. The presence of the Beast Slayers had done wonders for the safe minds and morale of the local miners and civilian populations. And they hadn't fired a single shot in anger yet.

He decided against sending the Destroyer. If it was nothing, it would just be a waste of resources. While there were plenty of reasons why he should scout it out, Teigor instead turned towards the Communications node. "You will be sent some coordinates. Send a general hail in that direction and keep an ear out for a response."

"Yes, Fleet Command."

Teigor clapped a hand down on Brea's shoulder. "Good job. Keep an eye on that location, and inform me if any thing else happens."

**CnC, Galactica**

**Arrival +85 Minutes**

Dee noted the latest transmissions from the Cloud 9, mostly confirmations of reservations for crew members aboard the Battlestar. Thus, when the blast of noise roared across her control board and all frequencies, the poor crewman ripped off her headphones. "FRAK!" she yelled as she examined her boards, looking for the source of the powerful signal.

"Report!" Adama's voice snapped across the CnC, causing another round of silence. The Admiral gestured, and Karl quickly moved over to Dee, where she was fussing with the system.

"An error?" he asked.

Dee shook her head. "No. Artificial. It's a powerful signal, but it's not coming from inside the fleet."

Adama heard this and snapped out the orders. "Set Condition Two throughout the Fleet! Dee, is it Cylon?"

"Unknown, Admiral." Dee and Agathon shared a look that spoke volumes. It wasn't Cylon, nor was it Colonial. That left... what, exactly?

"Where's it coming from?" Karl focused on one pertinent question.

"Ah... working, sir." The XO waited patiently, noting the time. It was only a couple minutes before Colonel Tigh was to arrive for his shift. Now it was going to be to a potential battle. The man must be cursed by the Gods. "Sir, I've got triangulation. It's a directed signal, coming from a point on the far side of the system, about 40 light-minutes out. Whoever is broadcasting isn't trying to hide their position."

Adama did the math in his head. 40 minutes for a light-speed signal, 40 minutes back, five minutes turnaround... Someone knew where they were, and the Galactica was at least 40 minutes behind the times. "What's in the signal?"

"I can't tell, Admiral. It seems like an open channel voice signal."

"Put it on." Adama indicated the overhead speakers at the same moment Saul stormed into the CnC.

From the loudspeakers, a feminine voice spoke in strange words. There was some words, a pause, then different words. Well, most of them were different. The words 'Somtaaw' and 'Kuun-Lan' were repeated fairly often.

"The Frak?" Tigh cursed as he was filled in by Agathon. So far, confusion was the order of the day in the Command center of the Galactica as Dee scrambled through her code-books and mechanical decoders, trying to find something to work on.

Then, it stopped. Nearly two minutes of noise left a deeper quiet. Then it was broken by Dee again. "Admiral? The President is on the line. She wants to know what just happened."

The Adama, Saul and Karl all huddled around the center console, trying to piece together a proper response. "Can't be Cylons. They'd just jump in and start shooting." The Colonel pointed out, to which the other men agreed. "And they can't be Colonial. At least, that's no code I know of." Karl added as he rubbed his head in thought.

As Admiral, military decisions came under his purview. And possible contact with an artificial signal of unknown origin certainly felt military. "Dee, order the fleet to minimum comms, in case we need to hear something less... direct. Then, broadcast back at whoever, or whatever that source was. Ask them in the clear to identify themselves. And I'll take the President down here."

A moment later, a light flashed on the handset beside the Admiral and he picked it up. "Yes, Madame President." A pause while the woman on the other end spoke. "We've tracked the origin of the signal, and it doesn't appear to be Cylon..."

Meanwhile, Dee started talking into her microphone. "This is the Colonial Battlestar Galactica BSG-75 to unknown ship, please identify. This is..."


	4. Tech Analysis 1 FTL Communications

While I was waiting for my proofreaders to get back to me on the first Chapter, I sat down and wrote this out one evening. The Tech Anaysis served the purpose of keeping _me_ straight when it came to what was possible and what was not, as well as giving my readers a chance to catch me when I frakked up.

The first one was the issue of FTL communications and can be considered Fanon for noth nBSG and HW. It came about because I had assumed (*sigh*) that both sides would use Radio for communications. I went back and found that nBSG was firmly rooted in conventional physics except for the Artificial Gravity and FTL, both of which were required for the plot and story. On the other hand, there are mentions of Hyperspace Comms and Tachyon communication in Homeworld, which are obviously different systems.

_Homeworld Bound_

_Technology Analysis_

_Part 1_

_Faster Than Light Communications_

As a rule, given the acknowledged technological base for the remnant forces of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, at the start of this story, they do not have access to direct FTL communications. Rather, if they need a message sent and the speed of light is too slow, they will send a Raptor or other small escort ship with the message aboard to jump close to the destination and transmit from there.

In effect, the 12 Colonies use an FTL Courier system for the delivery of messages, one that worked well for them given the small space in which they operated.

For the Kushan, they started the Homeworld War without the benefit of FTL communications. For the most part they were not initially aware of such a thing beyond some hypothetical studies done before the Mothership was scheduled to launch. If the Khar-Selim had been equipped with such a device, it was possible that some warning may have been given to Kharak, allowing for a better defense of that world. But such is the realm of what-ifs and fantasy.

But FTL communications did exist in the larger galaxy. While Hyperspace was a quantum event that enabled the creation of corridors in the fabric of reality to allow ships to side-step the normal limits of light speed and relativity, it was limited by two major factors. First was the power consumption to properly generate a Hyperspace wavefront and the efficiency of the Jumpcore.

So Galactic Science turned to different aspects of physics to avoid the solution used by the Colonials. One could simply not hold together a Galactic level civilization through the use of messangers alone. The answer came with Tachyons.

Long known to conventional science, these particles were an oddity in physics, with no known source. They acted much like normal particles except that instead of the Speed of Light being the upper limit in their velocity, it was their lower limit. Just as normal particles (called Tardyons) require infinite energy to accelerate to light speed, Tachyons require infinite energy to slow down to light speed.

Who first discovered that Tachyons could be manipulated like more traditional radio waves has been lost to the ages - even the Bentusi do not reveal that information. What happened was this technology was quickly spread across all the civilizations of the Galaxy. It is theorized that the civilization that created the language of Galactic Standard was also responsible for the Tachyon Radio, given the prevalence of both.

The Kushan - already knowing Galactic Standard (but calling it Kushanii) - were gifted this technology during their first encounter with a Bentusi Tradeship. They would later use it to eavesdrop on Imperial propoganda by jumping into deep space near a known Imperial outpost and later still in communications with the Taiidan rebellion.

Tachyon communications work much like radio, and later television broadcasts except for a couple major differences. First is the most obvious - the signals propogate faster than light. Secondly is due to the nature of the Tachyons themselves. Lower power signals could propogate faster and farther but at the expense of a lack of information bandwidth. A more powerful signal could carry massive amounts of information, but could not go as far, as fast. All Tachyons will eventually decay into background radiation. This leads some to humourously think that there are no 'natural' Tachyons, but simply the leftover static of extra-galactic transmissions.

As of 17 years after the Hiigaran landfall (the time of this story), Hiigarans use extensive Tachyon communications inside their exclusion zone, coordinating defenses and keeping in touch with outlaying colonies and mining ships.

During the Beast War, the Kuun-Lan was summoned to the defense of Hiigara by such a transmission from a Kiith Naabal Command Carrier and later conferred with their Kiith-sa on Hiigara while in the Coruc-Tel system.

Tachyon communications do not have the same range of Hyperspace jumps, making couriers still better for long range messages, but they are superior for (relatively) short-ranged direct communications, or general broadcasts.

As for the Cylons, that they have FTL communications is a logical necessity of their Ressurection Technology. But the means by which they transmit their 'identities' is yet unknown. However, it is interesting to note that their FTL comms is limited exclusively to their Ressurection ability - there is no evidence that they can utilize it for more mundane transmissions.


	5. Chapter 1 Lights

This was my first serious chapter to the story. I was still a little rough around the edges in my writing, tying to find a balance between the two major viewpoints. It was also fun to read the Spacebattles thread. There was plenty of discussion of military matters – many views offered on the nature of the inevitable battles that were going to take place. The general consensus was that neither side was really prepared for the other. The Ion Cannons would make short work of Basestars while other rightly pointed out that even the _Tempest_ class Multi-Gun Corvettes and _Dervish_ Multi-Beam frigates would quickly be swamped by the hundreds of _Raiders_ and missles the Cylons could put out. I have taken their counsel but already had some idea of how the first skirmishes would go – although with additions thanks to the contributions of those in the thread.

I told the thread that I had no intention of introducing the Beast to the story and people accepted that. Also as I was writing this, I envisioned certain scenes that I wanted to write in the distant future, sort of guideposts for where I wanted the story to go.

Chapter 1 was first published on the 15th of April, 2010 as post 301 of the story thread. I knew I wasn't going to be fast in writing, so that didn't worry me too much.

**Transport Shuttle, En Route to Colonial One, Colonial Exodus Fleet**

**5 Weeks after the Election, T-12 minutes to Jump**.

Vice President Zarek glowered at the latest round of reports. While normally the idea of seeing the final destruction of the Demand Peace group would have been a good thing, that it happened on Roslin's watch instead of his was annoying.

But his mind was focusing on other thoughts. Just who was the informant that gave such perfect information about the group to the Colonial Marines? In retrospect, it was obvious that it had to have been an inside job, but finding out *who* had done it... The terrorists had been transferred to the _Astral Queen_, rather than the brigs on the _Galactica_ or _Pegasus_ as many had expected.

He looked out the side window of the shuttle and saw that they were about to arrive. Fleet policy held that there was to be no civilian traffic in space during the last few minutes before a jump, unless it was an emergency.

Tom put his papers away and turned his thoughts towards the one question that was running in quiet circles around the Fleet.

Where were the Cylons?

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**

**22 Months after destruction of the Naagarok**

Bra was once again on the Bridge, now a far calmer person for his weeks here. The only major event was where a Republic task force had encountered a _Lord_ class Carrier with escorts and had been beaten back. By the time the _Kuun-Lan_'s reinforcements had arrived, the pirate raiders were gone.

In response, the _Kuun-Lan_ had redeployed further into the Wastelands, making their patrols more aggressive. So far, they had found nothing.

Another piece of news had arrived from the Homeworld. While it was labeled for Teigor's eyes only, rumors were rampant about its contents. Some felt that it was another offer to become the Kiith-sa, while the second most common thought was that the Mothership had been secured to build a replacement for the two-years dead _Clee-San_, or even a third Explorer.

Bra was keeping his opinions close to his chest. No need to speculate without more information.

He passed by the Science Station and leaned over the shoulder of the woman sitting there and asked, "Have you guys figured it out yet?"

Karan Somtaaw was born during the War, named in honor of Sjet. Like her namesake, Karan held a powerful mind for one so young, although she had yet to reach her 18th birthday. Her being here on the Third Shift was to help advance her career within the Somtaaw due to the real risk of losing her to the Kiiths Naabal or Sjet.

She turned to shake her head in negation. "Not yet. Fleet is still balking on allowing us to short-jump around the system to get the proper data." The question that they were referring to was why this star system held so many asteroids but no planetoids or proper planets. It was a conundrum that made mining for resources easier, but still confusing when the age of the star indicated that there should have been something more.

"Well, I know he's been thinking about it, but from what I've gathered, he's worried that any scouts like that could become isolated and attacked."

Karan's face fell. "I know. I know. Things were easier when we were a Mining Kiith. Didn't have to worry so much about enemy fighters."

Bra did not immediately comment. "Somtaaw is both a Mining Kiith and a Warrior Kiith. The _Faal-Corum_ still mines, but the _Kuun-Lan_ stands with the other Warriors. We are unusual in many ways, I suppose."

**CIC, Battlestar Pegasus**

**Jump -2 Minutes**

Lee and Tigh stood around the center console watching the clock. "All stations are secure for Jump, Major." Tigh looked at the younger Adama, now fully accepting of why Bill had sent him. Lee was young and very rough around the edges, especially where commanding a Battlestar was concerned. Being CAG was a whole different job.

"Thank you, Colonel. Signal the Galactica that we are ready." For his part, Lee still wasn't sure why Saul was his XO instead of the other way around. Sure, his promotion to command had been in the heat of battle, but the Admiral was well within his prerogative to put the higher ranking Colonel in charge.

All the questions directed at his father about that had been ignored or deflected.

According to the rotation, it was his ship's turn to go first, followed by the Fleet, with the Galactica taking up the rear in the case of stragglers. They were jumping into an asteroid field to mine resources to patch up ships; mostly metals for the hulls, as well as other incidentals.

"30 Seconds." Saul called out. "All hands, prepare to jump."

**CIC, Battlestar Galactica**

**Arrival +0 Minutes**

"We've arrived." Adama nodded in response to Karl's announcement.

"Sir, Pegasus signals that all ships are present and accounted for." Dee called out from the Communications station.

"Good. Mr. Agathon, launch the CAP and begin DRADIS scans." The Admiral had no doubt that Lee would have already done both, but it was always good to be certain.

Agathon echoed the Old Man's orders, the Galactica joining her sister ship in presenting a defensive perimeter around the 50 odd ships in the Fleet. Minutes later, the DRADIS returns only showed the expected. Fleet, fighters and rocks. "Very well." Adama noted. "Set Condition Three throughout the Fleet, tell the miners and processors to get to work."

"Aye sir." Karl and Dee quickly passed on the orders while Lt. Gaeta continued to watch the DRADIS.

The Fleet quickly came alive with radio chatter and launched shuttles, ferrying people and supplies around. A certain calmness was felt across the Fleet. It had been months since the last enemy Cylon had been spotted and there was a growing comfort with the way the way their civilization was moving. There was still a desire to find a planet to settle on, but given that the last habitable world encountered was Kobol, now under Cylon hands, that desire was a difficult one to support.

**Galactica Viper CAP, Colonial Exodus Fleet**

**Arrival +7 Minutes**

Starbuck swung the nose of her Viper around to point at the next waypoint. Behind her, Hotdog matched her maneuver. "Don't get lost looking at all the pretty lights, nugget!"

"Well Starbuck, I hate to tell you this, but the nearest thing worth looking at is back in the Fleet. The Bucket is just so pretty!"

"Ha!" Starbuck gleefully called back. "I would've thought that you would think your ass came closer!"

"Pft. You wish, Starbuck. But seriously, I thought we were supposed to be in an Asteroid field. There's only the one rock over there."

"You idiot. What do they teach you frakkers in the Academy anyways? Space is Big! Really, really Big! It's just that the nature of FTL means we usually skip over all the boring parts."

"Teachers? You mean you, right? I don't recall ever going to an actual Academy."

"Shut up Hotdog."

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**

**Arrival +44 minutes**

While Bra was temporarily relieving the person who was supposed to be monitoring Tactical, the call of nature was inexorable; even in the depths of space. Of course, he was taking the opportunity to familiarize himself with the setup. The Explorer class ship had a decent set of laboratory facilities available to it - although it was mostly limited to examining rocks for potential resources. The science module that had been added to the interior of the Hanger module back before the Beast had been released had been rebuilt.

Over the past couple years, the integrated module had been expanded onto the spine of the Kuun-Lan with other, dedicated modules. Although most of them had military and combat focuses, without the need for emergency research, they had turned to other pursuits. The Armor module, for example, was busy working on new construction materials for buildings back on the Homeworld, as well as for planned space habitats.

Right now, he was looking at the cycled data. Essentially, the possibility of spotting something in the sky was remote on the first chance, so the computer core of the research module spent its spare cycles checking the distant background for any changes.

Normally, it would find nothing, though on occasion it would spot a distant star that had been occluded by a rock.

So when it calmly notified its user that it had detected a new source of heat and radio waves, Bra was momentarily lost as to what to do. He ordered a re-check and a minute later the computer, and its AI routines told him that yes, indeed, something, or someone was now in the same system as they were.

While the computer carried out his commands, he had ordered his thoughts. First thing to do was to check for any Identification signals. That came back negative. There was faint radio traffic from the unknown location, but nothing loud enough to make out beyond 'noise'.

He had logged the unknown signal in time for the actual Tactical officer to return. They had quickly conferred and agreed that whatever it was, it was artificial - that meant summoning the First Shift.

Teigor arrived first and Bra quickly filled him in. As the others came into the bridge, they conferred with their on-shift counterparts. Bra stood behind Fleet Command, not ignored, but simply left to observe and learn.

First priority was to try and isolate the unknown signals. They appeared on a moderate band of radio waves, but no indication of any sort of tachyon or hyperspace comms. Optical telescopes had counted about 50 to 60 major reflective surfaces with an indeterminate amount of smaller lights moving about them.

There were three major things of note. First was that the fleet had jumped in undetected. Even at 40 light minutes away, the Hyperspace sensors should have detected them on their approach. Secondly was their proximity to an errant asteroid. Mass Spectrography had not detected anything out of the usual with it, but it was pretty obvious that the rock was a source of interest. Consensus was that it was being harvested. Thirdly was that the fleet contained Motherships.

The first two points could simply be explained by some miners slipping in and setting up camp under the relative protection of the _Kuun-Lan_. This was questioned as at that distance, it would take a short-jump to get there in any reasonable time.

But the motherships... The telescopes had picked out two massive ships taking up picket positions around the other ships. Quick estimates indicated that they were one-half to two-thirds the height of the Mothership herself on the long-axis. Their oblong shapes matched nothing in any database on ship design.

There was quiet argument and discussion about what to do with these strangers. Some argued that they should short-jump a Deacon to a closer position - but some felt that put the lone ship in too much risk. Another group asked that Fleet Command order one of the Archangel fleets to jump in from their patrol routes in other systems and investigate, but Bra objected to that plan as being too provocative. Who knew what kind of firepower those two ships had between them in addition to their escorts?

Teigor decided that a more conservative approach was needed. He ordered that all the remote fleets be notified of the unknown presence and to be ready to respond should they prove hostile.

After those messages were sent off, he recorded a message to be looped and transmitted across all the radio bands detected as being used by the unknowns. No sense in transmitting over hyperspace or with tachyons if there was no indication that they would hear it. "This is Fleet Command Teigor Somtaaw of the Kiith Somtaaw Warship Kuun-Lan hailing unidentified motherships. Please identify yourselves." The message was translated from Kushan into Turanic, Taiidan and Bentusi; as many felt that the language of the Unbound traders would be most likely to get a response.

**CIC, Battlestar Galactica**

**Arrival +87 minutes**

Adama wondered, not for the first time, if he should get some sort of stool or chair installed by the center console. He was an old man and the strain of standing for hours on end was for the young.

Speaking of which, Agathon was leaning over the console, checking and signing paperwork. The Pegasus had finally shipped over another half-dozen Vipers and Chief Tyrol was busy getting them ready. The usual issues of getting the newer models to work with the older systems was an old hat to the deck chief, so he had set his subordinates to the job instead.

Agathon looked up at the Old Man. "I can hold things here if you want." The offer to let Adama retire to his quarters was not only to give Adama a chance to rest, but also to allow Helo to show that he could hold down the CIC on his own.

Adama thought hard on this. Everything was quiet, the CAP had been changed without incident, and the Fleet was quietly humming along. Even the President's latest call had been quiet and quick. "All right. You have command."

"I have command." Agathon straightened up a bit as Adama collected some papers to take with him. As he started to leave, his gaze met Lt. Geata's. It was one that said that if anything went wrong, to summon him. He was willing to give Cpt. Agathon the chance, but wasn't going to take any risks he didn't have to.. Felix nodded and returned to his own duties.

For his part, Karl watched Adama leave, the tenseness in his neck growing slightly. To relieve it, he asked Geata to watch the DRADIS above the Command and Control station while he walked around the various stations to check on things. The Lt nodded and Agathon began his patrol, first checking the lower level stations - Dee was busy relaying messages around so he didn't bother her. The Damage Control panel was unmanned as the Aft Damage Control Station was currently occupied while Helm Control was busy calculating new sets of jump coordinates, both emergency and normal.

Hit tour was uneventful, but quite enlightening in its normalcy.

Unfortunately, things stopped being normal when Dee ripped her headphones off, swearing up a storm as half her board lit up like a Colonial Day celebration. Helo quickly went over to check on her and the problem. "A fault?" he asked, reminding himself that he wasn't all that familiar with the inner workings of the Communications Station.

"No, sir. Someone's broadcasting on all the channels the Fleet is using. I'm trying to sort it out." Dee responded slightly tersely.

Karl mentally nodded. "Can you get through to the Pegasus? See if they're getting the same thing?" He gestured at Geata to delay his calling of the Admiral.

"Ah, yes. Just using a band outside the jamming. I'll put you through at the Command Console."

"Thank you." Agathon hurried down to the center of the CIC and picked up the heavy hardline handset. "Pegasus, this is Galactica Actual. We have a broad signal jamming our comms array. Do you have the same problem?"

"Galactica, Pegasus Actual. We've got it too and now reports from other ships getting the same thing."

Karl put a hand over the mouthpiece of his phone. "Get the Admiral." he ordered and Felix rushed to get the older Adama back from his quarters.

"Pegasus, Galactica. We're increasing our CAP in case it's the Cylons trying something. Should we prepare for an Emergency Jump?" While the Galactica was the Flagship, Major Adama outranked Captain Agathon and so he deferred.

Before Lee could respond, the signal vanished. Dee was left blinking in confusion, barely managing to recompose herself before the signal returned. This time it was a magnitude less powerful, but no less clear. She got a confused look, and motioned for Agathon to come closer. "I don't recognize this." she said to explain herself as she handed the headphones to him. Ŧħįş įş Гľėėť ČőΜąŉđ Teigor Somtaaw őЃ ťħę Kiith Somtaaw Ŵăŗśħĩр Kuun-Lan..." The voice was masculine but the language was quite unknown. The words changed, but there were some common words. Teigor, Kiith, Somtaaw, Kuun-Lan.

A shift in the air indicated that Adama had returned to the CIC and Karl turned to find the Old Man conversing with the Pegasus. He handed back the headphones to Dee. "Keep working on it." he said as he returned to the Command Console. With the two senior officers back on location, Geata returned to his normal position at Tactical while keeping an ear out should he be needed.

Karl waited while the Admiral talked, discussing things with his son. Quickly, he put down the phone and looked at his XO. "Captain, we've located the source of the transmission. Get Astrometrics to focus our telescopes on it and see what's there."

Agathon nodded and picked up the other phone at the table, connecting through the hardline to the distant astrometrics lab. An ensign picked up the line and Agathon passed along the instructions. The woman on the other end confirmed that they were training the telescopes on the source of the signal, but it would take a few minutes before any decent images would be available.

Adama and Agathon put their phones down at the same time. The Admiral spoke first. "Well?"

Karl had an answer already. "Can't be Cylons. They'd just jump over and start shooting. It felt like a loud noise to get our attention, then the actual message began. But it doesn't sound like any Colonial code I've ever heard of."

"Then what the frak is it?"

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**

**Arrival +97 Minutes**

"Stand down." Teigor watched the unchanged tactical display. His biggest worry was that when the signal was received, the unknown fleet would either jump in to attack, or jump out to escape. That they hadn't arrived, guns blazing was partially a good sign. Of course the Kuun-Lan still had her FTL sensors trained on the unknown fleet and they had not left either.

The Somtaaw mothership had recalled one of the Archangel Dreadnoughts in the case that the unknowns had proven hostile, while a Deacon had been dispatched to the nearby Republic Base with information about the contact. The Destroyer, if they encountered a Bentusi ship along their route, were to ask the Unbound traders for any advice or knowledge they might have. Or rather, ask them to go to the Kuun-Lan so they could be asked in person.

**CIC, Battlestar Galactica**

**Arrival +102 minutes**

The words had repeated for about 8 minutes, then stopped. A tense fleet had hastily spun up their jump drives, waiting for the signal to jump. Around the command console, Adama and Agathon waited for Dee to come down with a thin yellow binder. On the console was a speaker phone that was temporarily hooked up and connected to a similar device on the Pegasus. This arrangement allowed the four military command officers to converse without needing to hold the phones to their ears for long periods of time.

"So, when is the President arriving?" Tigh's voice came like tin through the speaker as Dee arrived at the console. She set down the binder, and flipped it open, aware that something similar was going on before the officers on the other Battlestar.

"The First Contact Protocols." Agathon poked the edge of the binder. "Kinda thin. Sir." he added as a causal afterthought.

Adama nodded. "It was written by Fleet Command back at the Anchorage."

"Frak, I've never read them. Can't say I've met anyone who has, either." Saul spoke over the comm line. "What about you, Bill?"

"Nope. Well, Dee?"

"Sirs, the files we have state that in such a scenario, our duty is to hold position and observe while sending an escort or a Raptor back to the colonies. There, the Government and Fleet would put together a team to attempt official contact. We were not to fire unless fired upon, nor attempt to initiate contact on our own without appropriate oversight." The Communications officer realized that she, and maybe her counterpart on the Pegasus were the only people to have read this and were still alive. Long shifts with nothing else to do led to examining all the documentation that went with her station, where she had first read the contents of the binder.

"Can't sent a messenger back to the Colonies. Nearest person then would be the President." Lee pointed out.

"Should I summon her?" Agathon asked, not sure just how the school teacher would be able to help without the power of the old Colonial government behind her.

Adama nodded. "Yes. What else, Dee?"

Karl moved to the Comm station where he conferred with the person currently there. Behind him, Dee continued her briefing. "The first couple pages describe what not to do, which I've already covered. Then there is a section describing how we could go about making contact once the specialists were here."

"Oh frak." Saul grumbled, leaving Lee to echo a moment later.

"Saul?" Adama leaned closer to the speaker. "What?"

"Look on page 12. There's a list of people tentatively selected to be on this 'First Contact Team'. Look at the 6th line."

Face a stony mask, Adama flipped to the page indicated and ran his fingers down the lines. "Oh. Yes. I see what you mean." He didn't like what he saw one bit, but knew that he was in no position to change it.

**Astrometrics, Battlestar Galactica**

**Arrival +108 Minutes**

Ensign Jardin picked up the intercom when it buzzed. The task of regaining star-fixes had been put on hold by the arrival of the signal, now his small array of telescopes and other detection equipment were turned towards a small patch of blank space on the far side of the local Star.

Behind him, pictures were still being developed, the longer the cameras stared at the target, the better the resolution. He stiffened as he heard the voice on the other end of the line. "Sir! Yes sir! Ah, one moment sir. I'll get him." He looked across the lab. "Doctor Baltar? The Admiral wants to see you in the CIC. He asks that you go there right away."

At the other end of the cramped room, Gaius Baltar looked up in confusion. "Huh? What? Why?"

"I don't know, Doctor. But he said it was important." The Ensign nodded his head at the armed guards that followed the former Vice President everywhere on the Galactica. They strode to the scientist and loomed overhead until he got moving, following him out of the lab and forward to the Command Center.

**CIC, Battlestar Pegaus**

**Arrival +117 Minutes**

Saul and Lee heard over the speaker as Baltar had arrived and had been briefed on the situation. For their part, the two of them had helped spot the source of the unknown signal by providing a large baseline for the various instruments looking in that direction.

Lee had quietly asked Saul his opinion about jumping the Pegasus over to the source, but his XO had objected on the grounds that such a plan would leave the Fleet under-defended against an unknown foe.

"What about a Raptor?" Lee offered in counter. "Small enough it might be able to get in and out undetected."

"That could work. But it would have to be a volunteer pilot and ECO, I think." Tigh nodded in agreement. "Still have to run it by the Old Man first."

Lee nodded, then activated the microphone. "Admiral? I have a suggestion."


	6. Chapter 2 Cameras

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**  
**Arrival +125 Minutes**

Teigor sat in his seat near the back of the Kuun-Lan's bridge, watching in silence as the fleet's readiness slowly ramped up. Around the command ship, the Somtaaw fleet organized itself into parade formation while the Acolytes performed perimeter patrol. The limits of light-speed meant that any radio response to the their hailing signal could arrive at any moment and the Kuun-Lan had oriented herself to face the unknown fleet in order to bring the sensor pylons on the front of the ship to bear.

He had ordered that a pair of Recon fighters fly a couple light-seconds out from the Kuun-Lan to form a longer baseline for observations. The smaller ships didn't have the same sensors package as the Kuun-Lan, but what they saw could be used by the Command ship to augment its own observations. One of the first changes in what they saw was a revision downward in the size of the two motherships.

The larger of the two was tagged as Unknown 1, while the smaller Unknown 2. The rest of the mysterious fleet were given IDs based not on size, but on their albedo. U1 was now more accurately measured as about 10-15% longer than the Kuun-Lan while U2 was about 1/15th shorter from engine plume to nose.

At the insistence of the Intelligence department, they had tried to hail the other fleet with Tachyon and Hyperspace communications. Neither effort was met with a response.

It seemed to be the rumor mill around the bridge and ship that these ships represented a brand new civilization on the Galactic scene. So new that even the Bentusi had never encountered them. That thought had brought back memories from Teigor and some of the older members of the Kiith who served on the Mothership during the Homeworld War. When the Kushani had stepped out of their exile, they had met their first two alien races.

The Turanic Raiders attacked the Khar-Selem without warning, without provocation, beyond their glee at getting free reign and burning the defenseless ship into a hulk before trying the same with the Mothership shortly after her first Hyperspace jump.

The second was the Taiidan Empire, summoned by the Turanics to enforce the four millenia old treaty. They blasted the orbital facilities before turning their attention to Kharak herself, burning off the atmosphere for daring to violate their word and law. But the Mothership – and more importantly, the colonists had survived.

Their third encounter was with the Bentusi, those enigmatic traders who saw their influence wax and wane over the past two decades with the Kiith. Currently their star was on the rise again due to the actions of the Somtaaw during the Beast War. The Unbound had stepped down from their lofty perch and helped find and burn the Beast wherever it was found.

The Kadeshi were next. Their cousins who lived perhaps still in the nebula known as the Garden of Kadesh. The Kushan had thought themselves a faithful people, following the tenants of Saajuk, He-whose-hand-shapes-all. But that was nothing compared to the fervor of the the Gardeners. Those who 'defiled' their holy place had to be destroyed. But the Kushan people had escaped that place, never yet to have returned.

Three of the first four. Hostile. Lessons that were hard learned in the past would be applied today to greet these strangers to the stars. Teigor hoped that this meeting would go peacefully, set a good precedent for them – that maybe he and his people could escape the harsh failures of the past and find a better way.

**CIC, Battlestar Galactica**  
**Arrival +125 Minutes**

Lee's argument was simple. Send a Raptor kitted out for recon to jump in closer to the other fleet and take passive scans. His crew had located an asteroid they felt would block the signature of a jump only a couple light-minutes out from the other fleet.

Roslyn raised the issue that the other people out there – she herself hadn't committed to them being either Aliens or the 13th Tribe in the grand tradition of all politicians before her not committing to anything – would be expecting a radio reply.

Adama sighed. "We've been over this. Dualla and Baltar still haven't figured out what they are saying."

Roslyn turned on the full 'teacher' glare. "Just because we don't know what they're saying does not mean that they won't understand us." She offered up the relatively new argument, hoping this would sway the Admiral to her cause. "And we can get Lee's Raptor to transmit it for us."

On the Pegasus, Saul winced at that, knowing that only Lee could see him. "She doesn't quite get it, does she? We transmit from the Raptor, we give away its position." He kept his voice quiet enough that the microphone didn't pick him up. The younger Adama nodded in agreement.

Back on the Galactica, Adama said the exact same thing to the President. "The idea behind the recon is that the Raptor doesn't get seen."

"Then have it make the observations, then jump out! By the time the signal gets there, the Raptor will have been gone for minutes!"

Helo jumped in before Adama could say something he would later regret. "Madame President, the Raptor doesn't have the normal ability to transmit across such distances. The Battlestars, certainly. Probably the Astral Queen or Cloud Nine. Maybe even Colonial One. But the Raptor simply doesn't have the power to make a message heard that far away. And if we move the Raptor close enough that it can be heard, there's a good chance that the other fleet could jump in on top of it."

That gave the President pause. She knew that there was no way that the Admiral would risk his men without just cause. And delivering a message was not on that list.

Adama stepped into the silence. "Besides, what good would a message do when we still don't know what to say, even assuming they somehow know Caprican?"

"Ah, I may have a solution to that, Admiral." Baltar spoke up from his spot across the CIC. "We just don't use words."

**Brig, Battlestar Galactica**  
**Arrival +131 Minutes**

Karl had rushed down to the Brig, sending the guard to stand out of earshot. "Sharon?"

"What do you want?" The Cylon prisoner asked flatly, her face still tucked into her knees, curled up against the wall. It hurt Karl to see her like so. A quick glace showed the two other Cylons, who went by the name of 'Cavil' were not really paying attention to the interchange.

"The Admiral wants to send a Raptor to do some recon work. It's a short jump mission, shouldn't take more than 15 minutes. It's a low-risk mission, so there's no security worries." Karl wasn't sure how best to phrase this. Adama had ordered him to 'get a volunteer Raptor pilot' to take the mission. This was technically outside what Adama had told him to do, but screw it.

"Frak him. He just wants me off his ship." The Caprica-Sharon didn't bother to move. Neither of them noticed that the two Cavils had stopped their meditations to watch the conversation.

Helo leaned in against the clear plastic that separated the two of them. "Sharon, please. You haven't eaten properly in weeks. You need to get out, do something.. anything. Please?"

"Frak off." The Cylon responded.

"Ah. Pardon us." One of the Cavils, the one who had pretended to be a Brother on the Galactica spoke up. "If I may interject here."

Helo almost snarled at the skinjob to shut up. But he held his tongue. "What do you want, Cavil?" His voice still contained some measure of annoyance, but it was enough.

"Well, it occurs to myself and I," - an odd way to refer to the other copy of the same Cylon - "that our sister would be better motivated if there was some particular _reason_ she should fly for you. Now, it is quite painfully obvious that this simple recon mission that you are describing isn't that."

Helo kept his face impassive. "Yes?"

"So, what is going on that you want to get her to go out there, instead of one of your precious own pilots?"

Karl realized that these three people were probably the last people in the fleet to have heard the news. So he told them. Aliens. The Thirteenth Tribe. The look of shock on the faces of the two Cavils more than made up for the spilling of any potential military secrets.

As one, they turned to their sister and began to petition that she go. Sharon had finally come out of her self-imposed shell with the news of a totally new fleet, one that wasn't Colonial or Cylon had been detected. And tried communicating in an unknown language.

"But you must, sister!" One Cavil implored before the other advanced the same cause. "It would be improper, no, unacceptable for one of us to not be present!"

Sharon looked with hollow eyes at the two Numbers One. "Frak you," she muttered, "I won't do what you tell me." The two at least had the good grace to seem chastised. But Agathon could see through the flimsy facade. He wondered if Sharon did. Probably not.

"Look, Sharon. We're not going to send you out there by yourself. That would be stupid. And wrong. No, you fly the Raptor, I'll be your RCO." Karl's voice was quiet, pleading. "Please?"

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**  
**Arrival +140 Minutes**

Bra finished his report, mostly about nothing with this line, "But there was a sudden spike in radio waves from the unknown fleets then a couple minutes later, they quieted down."

"It's almost like they are trying to listen for more signals. They would have to be idiots to think we didn't know where they were, so going quiet like that couldn't be a stealth option." Maaki Somtaaw, the venerable woman who had served as the Intelligence Officer for the Somtaaw since before the Homeworld War spoke with some amusement.

Her personal opinion wasn't properly shared by the rest of the now-crowded bridge. There was a certain tenseness from the lower ranked people who maintained a silent vigil over their stations.

For his part, Bra wasn't used to such conditions. Normally he worked the third shift, but this situation meant he was still active on the Bridge. Originally, the Kuun-Lan operated with an active crew of 1200, with another 2000 in cryosleep. That was back when she was a mining ship for a mining Kiith. Now that her focus had switched to being a Warrior ship, her crew compliment had changed to about 1800 active crew at all times, with replacements and rotations back on Hiigara. In one way, the ship was more crowded with the 50% increase in activity, but the removal of the cryodecks freed up more living and support space.

Many parts of the ship still retained the miners aesthetic, which included tight quarters and easy access to the various systems around the ship for maintenance purposes. That translated into about thirty people working in a room that would be comfortable for about 20. All this drifted across Bra's mind as he bumped arms with Teigor for the umpteenth time in the last few minutes as people stood around the central holographic display.

"Perhaps they are waiting for a follow-up from us?" Someone across the table, the flight leader for the Recon fighters, a small woman with a shaved head spoke. "I mean, we send them a message and not follow up on it. Would seem weird to me."

Others around the projection nodded in agreement. "However, we sent a greeting and request for identification." Bra pointed out as he gestured at the distant points of light in the display. In reality, the motion was to give his arms some room. "Unless they were expecting us to jump to them soon after the message was received."

"That makes no sense! If we were going to jump to them, wouldn't we have done it first?" The Recon pilot shot back, glaring across the display.

"Sure, if we wanted to spook them. What would you do if a Mothership and escorts jumped in at close range without warning?" Bra countered while he asked himself why Teigor hadn't ordered the fleet to jump, or at least prepare to do so. It was certainly a legitimate option.

"Saajuk's Sword! You sure sound like a Naabal."

"Now hold on!" Bra glared in return, "If we jump over to them and they turn out to be hostile, we will be stuck with at least 10 minutes of recharge time on the hyperspace drives."

"And just standing back here? You expect us to hold a conversation with these people where we have to wait almost an hour-and-a-half for a reply?"

"You both raise valid points." Teigor's voice cut across the conversation, drawing it to a close. "We don't know what they are thinking. Now, it occurs to me that we should move closer. And taking the normal space route would certainly take too long. So, I want the fleet to prepare to jump on the Kuun-Lan to a location about, oh, say 500,000 kilometers away from the Unknowns. That will put us outside of weapons range, but well inside radio distance." He glanced at the clock. "Notify the patrol fleet that we will be moving. Calculate the jump and begin the hyperspace cores. If we don't receive a response in... 20 minutes – that should be enough time should they be delayed in a response transmission – then we'll move closer and try some more."

A round of "Ayes" came back and the meeting dispersed, Bra staying for a moment to stare at the distant ships, trying and failing to divine some extra bit of information from the small bits of data still flowing in.

**Portside Hanger Bay, Battlestar Galactica**  
**Arrival +142 Minutes**

Chief Tyrol banged one of the connection points, making sure the point would hold. The orders had come down to refit one of the Raptors with all the surveillance gear they could fit onto it to investigate the alien fleet.

Galen didn't buy into the theory that these people were the 13th Tribe. If they were, wouldn't they speak Kobol, or something like it? No, they had to be inhuman creatures. Which of course led to the next logical question. What the frak did they look like?

It wasn't like the Colonies had experience with alien life. All the worlds seem outside the Colonies (and Kobol) were barely capable of supporting life – if at all. So what sort of species would arise under such conditions, where life was hard to find?

He found his imagination quite lacking, seeing only humans in rubber suits.

The quick pace of someone coming up behind him caused him to break off his musings. He turned to see the CAG, Starbuck coming up, casting an appraising eye at the Raptor. "You know, I forget sometimes how much crap you can bolt onto one of those things."

The Chief snorted. "Can't really do that to a Viper, can we? No, the Raptor is a workhorse. She'll get the job done. You got a volunteer yet?"

Thrace shook her head, disgust plain on her face. "No, no. The Old Man wants to give the frakking Toaster a chance to, and I quote Helo here, 'Prove her worth to the Fleet'." For added emphasis, she even performed the finger quotation motions.

Tyrol went slackjawed. "Wha.. Sharon? He's letting it fly a mission?"

"Frak yes!" The blonde woman started pacing back and forth beside the waiting Raptor. "She shot him!"

"Wasn't her", The chief corrected Thrace. "It was the other Sharon. We know that there's multiple versions.. copies... duplicates... whatever the word is for them. The one we have in the brig is the one who was on Caprica. You know, helped out Helo, got pregna..."

His sentence was cut off with a punch from Thrace. Her fist slammed into the hull of the Raptor, the ship winning the contest of strength. "Frak it. Frak her. Whatever. Just make sure it doesn't stink up my flight deck." With that, Starbuck turned and stalked away.

Tyrol wasn't sure what to make of what just happened. On one hand, he knew that the Sharon from Caprica was different from the one whom he had... No. Best not to think about that particular.. interlude. It, she was different. He had to treat her as a different person, right?

Right?

**CIC, Battlestar Galactica**  
**Arrival +144 Minutes**

"Isn't that wonderful, Gaius?" The sultry voice of the red-clad muse in his ear was impossible to resist.

"I do hope this works." He replied both to her, the angel in his head and as a comment to Lt. Dee.

The real woman nodded. "Well, we tried to make it as best we could. I have to say though, trying to create a message out of pure math was a challenge." She rubber her temple as the data tapes spooled into a separate box to be moved to the Raptor for the transmission. "The President is quite proud of herself for getting her way." Dualla's voice dropped a bit to keep the subject of her statement from hearing.

"Please don't talk about her." Baltar was still in the back of his mind sore from loosing. He had been deserted by everyone whom he had invested some measure into to try and gain the presidency.

Only Gina stayed with him. Or did he stay with her? Another part of him thought that he only stayed with her because of the Six in Red. Someone he could touch properly.

Dee silently agreed. She saw the look across his face and figured the election was still a sore subject. "I do hope they'll understand it."

**Deep Space**  
**Arrival +150 Minutes**

Space tore, releasing the small ship into the blackness. Out the window of the ship, Sharon and Helo stared in silence at the rock before them. Actually, now that they looked at the scans of the rock, that was a misnomer. It was a clump of dust that had accumulated over billions of years around an actual rock.

"We've arrived on target." Helo spoke for the benefit of the flight recorder. "Sharon, how are the other systems?"

"Good." There was less vibration in her voice. Like being back in the left seat was somehow empowering her. "I'm setting us to silent running. Activating passive sensors.. now."

Helo confirmed those systems were operational. "Shutting off the engine, switching to batteries." The Raptor darkened, leaving only the minimal RCS controls and the lights on the insides of the helmets.

"Moving the Raptor." Sharon lightly tapped the controls, sending a spurt of compressed gas out one side of the ship. In a few moments they cleared the edge of the rock. With perfect timing, Sharon stopped the ship. The two of them busied themselves making sure everything was aligned and recording before settling into the silence of space.

Which didn't last. "Thank you." Sharon broke first, twisting to look at Helo. "You didn't have to do this. Not for me."

"Yes I did." Helo looked her squarely in the eyes. "I know if you wanted to stay with the Cylons, you had plenty of reason and chances to back on Caprica. But you stayed with me. Came with me. I had to help you somehow."

"By getting me out of the cell?"

"Well, it was a start. We both know there was no way you could bunk in the pilots quarters." Helo suddenly found himself short on words. There was so much he wanted to say, but couldn't. After a few minutes of false starts and awkward silences, the mechanical clock ticked to the last, giving Karl a reason to speak cleanly. "That it, done recording. We can jump to the second navpoint, transmit, then we're home."

Sharon nodded. "I'm moving us back into the shadow of the rock, then we can power back up."

Helo nodded as he busied himself checking that the batteries still had the proper charge in them and that the electronics on the Raptor were responding properly as engine power was funneled back into them.

Moments later, the small ship vanished in an implosion of space.

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**  
**Arrival +160 minutes**

"Carrier signal!" The Communications officer called out, bringing all other action on the bridge to a halt. "Unknown signal type. It's just a mono-tone."

"Put it on for us to hear." The sentence was not even finished before the humming noise came over the speakers.

"Still on the carrier" someone pointed out before a single 'beep' came through.

"Beep." "Beep Beep." "Beep Beep Beep." "BeBeep." A two tone noise that started low then went high. "BeBeep Beep Beep."

"One, Two, Three, Five, Seven? Prime numbers?" Maaki questioned aloud. "Did they not understand anything we said to them?"

"Seems so, or perhaps there was some confusion in reading our signal. We don't know." Teigor finished the thought. In the background, the numbers continued to climb while analysts poured over the nature of the signal. "We jump the Fleet in five minutes."

**CIC, Battlestar Galactica**  
**Arrival +162 minutes**

Helo rushed into the Control Center having barely had time to change out of the RCO's uniform while the first images were being processed. He held in his hand said images and headed straight for Adama who was conferring with the President and Baltar over their next course of action. He knew that the Admiral had ordered these images were also to be transmitted to the Pegasus.

"Sir," he said giving a quick salute, "Here are the first pictures of the Xeno fleet." Someone, somewhere along the line had recalled the old world for 'alien' or 'foreign' and applied it to the the fleet that had hailed them. And rather than using the repetitive descriptor of 'unknown' or 'mysterious', went with that. And it stuck.

"Show us." Adama growled as Karl started to spread the thermal and optical images across the table. The people around it picked up pictures at random to look them over.

"It seems this one is the biggest." Roslyn said as she waved a off-center picture of a long ship with a huge 'chin' on it.

"Yes Madame President." Helo pointed at the picture. "We estimate it to be about 1500 meters long, and about 500 in height and width. Mostly due to that hanger section."

"Bigger than the Galactica." Adama didn't like the idea of possibly getting into a fight with an unknown ship that was bigger than his. "How about these other ones?" He shuffled the pictures around to point at some of them.

Saul's voice came from the wireless. "Admiral, I'm looking at some of the closeups and analysis. It seems this big ship only has about 7 or 8 guns on it. Like its purely defensive armament."

"Same can't be said about the others though." Baltar held up one picture. "Ah, Major Lee, this one is labeled number 12 for your reference." He pointed at the top-down view of a very boxy ship with two prongs out one end and what seemed like engines on the other. "See this? That is obviously a missile launcher of some sort."

Adama looked at the indicated point and nodded. "I see it." He looked through a few of the other images. "But the more I see, I don't see a proper warship. There are so few weapons on these ships I would think they are for anti-piracy work. Hold them off before they can be rescued."

"Makes sense. But I think they really do have a warship. Probably an escort ship. Look at number 32." Lee called back as the sounds of pictures being moved came in the background.

"Thirty-two... thirty-two..." Adama looked at the others. "Any of you have it?"

A chorus of "Noes" was his reply. "Lee, looks like I don't have that picture. It could be on its way from processing."

"CONTACT! CONTACT! CONTACT!" Geata yelled out, stopping any other conversation cold. The wireless echoed the same yell from the Pegasus.

Adama didn't wait for further information. "Set Condition One throughout the Fleet. Launch Ready Vipers. Tell the Fleet to get ready to jump to the emergency rendezvous." He looked at Roslyn who had become slightly used to the sudden activity of the Galactica getting ready to defend her charges.

"Geata, what do we have?" Now that the Fleet was ready to defend itself, he could spare a moment to determine the opposition. To stay and fight, or more likely, run.

"Sir, we have contacts at extreme sensor range. Not getting any Colonial Transponders." A moments silence as Geata looked over the information on his board. "Sir, I think it's the Xeno Fleet. They must have jumped closer. Not reading any Cylon signals."

Adama thought about that. It made sense, but still... "Duella, hail them. Lee, you catch that?"

"Yes sir. My Tactical Plot confirms that. They're on your side of the Fleet, do you want us to maneuver over there?"

Adama shook his head, a gesture unseeable by his son. "No Lee. You stay there. In case they are hostile and want to draw us to one side to get at the Fleet." He saw Roslyn move to make a comment, probably something about him being too paranoid but stopped herself short. She instead nodded at him, taking a slight step back. A clear sign that she was trusting Adama to do the right thing. "Orient the Galactica to face the Xeno fleet. Arm all weapons, but do not fire. Send a Raptor with Viper escort to extend our sensor range."

His commands being followed, Adama turned his attention to Duella, who was still trying to raise the other fleet. Whether she knew it or not, he felt that a peaceful contact was solely on her shoulders.

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**  
**Arrival +165 minutes**

"Jump complete." Teigor accepted Bra's report. "We are on position. Orienting on Unknown fleet. They're still there." Bra let out a small sigh of relief. It would have been an embarrassment to make the jump only to find that the other ships had jumped out due to the time lag involved.

"Sir! Unknown 2 is launching Strike craft!" The con officer reported, noting the dozen small.. interceptors were they? "Tagging them as Scouts based on the size and velocity."

"What is their posture?" Maaki asked, a youthful eagerness in her voice caused by the joy of discovery.

"Signal from Unknown 2! It's audio. Putting it on now."

"Αυτό είναι το αποικιακό γαλαξίας αστεριών μάχης..." A female voice sounded off the closer of the two motherships.

A moment's confused silence. "Does anyone understand that?" Teigor asked to break people into action. That his own words showed his confusion only hastened their actions.

"Not in the databases." Someone whispered a little loudly. "The AI's trying to figure it out, but we need more information." Another countered.

Maaki approached Tiegor. "Sir, the Unknown fleet has launched what appears to be a heavier fighter, this one with a large EW signature. We believe it may be a recon unit of some sort. It has a pair of Scouts as its escort. Should we respond in kind?"

Teigor thought for a moment. "Yes. One Recon and two Acolytes. Also launch a pair of Recons to establish a larger baseline for observations again."

"Aye sir."

A few moments later, three fighters separated from Parade formation to take up a picket mirroring that of the closer mothership.

**Viper 212, Picket position**  
**Arrival +172 minutes**

Hotdog arrived on location, his wingman and Raptor slowing down with him. Behind the three ships, the Galactica and her fleet were bright points of light in the distance. "Tailspin, what do you see?" He addressed the Raptor pilot, but his words were also headed back to the Bucket and Beast.

"We just got here, Hotdog! Can't expect miracles or instant responses, you know." Tailspin shot back as he stabilized the Raptor for observations. Unlike Sharon with her superior reflexes, he had to take a couple moments to get it right. "There. Now we can watch. And first thing is this. Galactica, Tailspin. Can you confirm the three fighters opposite me?"

A second later the response was positive. "Tailspin, Galactica. We do. With your readings, it looks like another three fighter flight. Two big ones and a small one."

"Galactica, Tailspin. Thanks. Really looks like a copy of our presence here."

"Tailspin, Hotdog. "If that were the case, wouldn't it be two small, one big? Galactica, Hotdog. Just how big are they?"

"Hotdog, Galactica Actual." The Viper pilot felt a chill run though his veins as the Old Man's voice came to him. "The smaller one looks to be about 50% larger than a Viper. The bigger ones about four to five times larger."

"Oh Frak." Hotdog really hoped that there would be talking not shooting going on. The thought of dogfighting something that big didn't appeal to him. Maybe to Starbuck, he considered, but certainly not to him.

**Command Module, Kuun-Lan**  
**Arrival +180 minutes**

The Language was still untranslatable. Which firmly cemented the idea in the minds of the crew that these people were truly new to the Galactic stage. That they were in the Great Wastelands was something of a surprise, given the sparsity of resources, worlds and even stars.

Less people were huddled around the central display for this meeting. Some who were present last time were down in the Hanger Module readying their ships while others tried to make sense of the babble they heard while babbling back.

This meeting was one of more military concerns. "Well?" Maaki took the lead as she began her presentation.

"Command," she started with the formal title, this briefing to go on the record and transmitted to the Diaamond back on Hiigara. "this briefing is to describe the observed capacities of the Unknown fleet. At this time I would remind us all present that we have sent a Deacon to locate a Bentusi vessel and request their assistance in this matter of First Contact."

She took a deep breath then tapped a button to chance the view of the display to show the two Motherships. "These are Unknowns One and Two. Both are about the same length as the Kuun-Lan, but appear to be far more massive." Another tap added a wireframe version of the Kuun-Lan to compare. "Both show signs of battle damage, Two being in worse shape." Another click, this time a magnification on the 'head' of the smaller Mothership. "You can see here and here," a finger pointed out certain locations, "where the armor has been removed or damaged, revealing more layers of armor underneath as well as structural ribbing. There is also signs of such ribbing all along the hull. Analysis indicates that this ship could carry another layer of armor. One is in better condition, showing less damage than Two.

"Both ships have symbols painted onto the hull. Two has these..." a click to switch to a close up of what could only be a word along one side "on the sides, probably a ship name. One has a smaller word along its side. What these letters say are impossible to determine given the current lack of understanding of the language. All the other ships in the fleet have different symbols, so we are building a small portion of their alphabet.

"Another thing to note is the semi-external strike craft bays attached to both motherships. They both have pontoon-like structures from which we have observed all manner of shuttles emerging and docking from. So far we have only seen the Scout and Recon classes. They may be keeping Bombers and Corvettes in reserve should we prove hostile. One has both pontoons fixed outwards, but Two has the portside deployed while the starboard pontoon is flush against the primary hull."

Maaki took another breath. "Of note is the weapons suite we have observed. Within a minute of our arrival, Two had rotated to bring her topside to bear, protecting the launch structures for her strike craft. But in doing so we began to count her weapons. We observed no missile launchers or Ion weapons, but they could be on the underside of the ship. Rather, we counted 8 pairs of heavy kinetic weapons arranged in two groups of 4." A click to magnify the guns. They were pointed at the camera, with only a slight offset.

"These weapons appear to be smaller than those on a Cruiser, more akin to a Frigate or Destroyer. Although any further speculation would be useless given that we have not seen them in action. But that is not the worst of it. We counted over 200 smaller defensive guns lining the hull facing us, with probably more on the other side."

"Two-hundred!" Teigor's voice was shocked, as were most people around the table. "Saajuk, whole fleets don't have that many..."

"Yes Command. However, these are smaller weapons, more akin to the size of guns found on Multi-Gun Corvettes. Not much damage to a Capital or Super-Capital ship."

"Attacking it with strike craft would be suicide." someone muttered in horror. "Even the Bentusi Acolytes would get torn up before they could reach range.."

"Indeed. And One has less in the way of observed guns, but is larger. Intelligence concludes that these are less Motherships in the traditional sense of a fleet support ship like the Kuun-Lan, or even as a Colony ship. We are giving them the designation of 'Warship' to account for this. Given this, any construction facilities would be internal to be protected during battle and projected requirements for the space of the engines and weapons would limit them to building strike craft only. There are two of them protecting this fleet."

She let this information sink in. A massively overarmored and overgunned ship designed to fight. The though of one of those simply plowing into the middle of an entire fleet, shrugging off the best weapons of the Taiidan or Turanic Raiders while dealing death and destruction in all directions was a sobering one. The ones who thought faster around the table then asked themselves the necessary followup question. What enemy caused them to fight like that?

"The rest of the fleet is.. chaotic in nature." Another tap, another change in the picture. Maaki had given enough time to let people think. Time to move on. This time it showed off a cycle of images of the other ships huddled between the two massive warships. We have seen spin ships, rotating to keep gravity – we've used that rotation to calculate their approximate gravity and it's within Kushani comfort. We've also seen a ship with a dome over it, seeing plenty of green in it. Possibly some sort of agricultural ship. We have also identified mining and refinery vessels."

"This sounds a lot like some sort of colony fleet." Teigor pointed out, "But I don't think that's what you're getting at."

Maaki nodded. "That is correct, Command. At first, Intelligence thought the same, but some problems with that theory became apparent. First is the battle-damage. It could have been from a Turanic or Imperial raid that came across these ships, but the damage appears to be limited to One and Two. Now, this could be because they did their job extremely well, but there has been no intelligence on our end that such a battle took place.

"Also, there is a major discontinuity to the structure of these ships. They do not lend themselves to what we would consider colony-like." More clicks to cycle through the ships. "None of these seem to be suitable for founding a colony around, unless they plan on leaving their ships in orbit. Nor do any of these ships show any of the external signs of cryo-storage, so the possibility of conveying colonists over short distances is possible."

"How many people do you think is in this fleet?" Bra asked, pondering for himself.

"Uncertain. 35,000 seems to be the average number from my division." Maaki shrugged. A good question, but one that held little evidence to support or deny it. "This fleet has more in common with a convoy than anything else. Except for the stopping to mine part."

"Anything else?" Teigor asked, eyes firmly locked on the images of the other fleet. So many questions, so few answers. Until they could talk, that was for certain.

"No sir. Just details that will be in the final report." Maaki Somtaaw finished, but did not deactivate the display in accordance with Teigor's gaze.

"Then we are dismissed. Thank you, Intelligence."

**War Room, Battlestar Galactica**  
**Arrival +180 minutes**

Adam had decided to move this discussion into the War Room of the Battlestar, away from the crowds of people in the CIC. Before him was the plotting board. On his left were models representing the Galactica and Pegasus with the tokens for the various ships in the fleet huddled between the two of them. On his right were tokens with attached uprights that held small pictures of the various ships of the Xeno fleet.

Mentally, the Admiral berated himself for falling into the trap that Helo and his other subordinates had fallen into. Giving them a name, even one as generic as 'alien', and you ran the risk of beginning to humanize them, to see things where there were none.

As much as he disliked Baltar, Adama at least respected that of the scientist. He could look at what was simply right in front of him with no assumptions. Must be the scientist in him.

On the other side of the table, the President calmly leaned over to poke at the models. The teachers fascination with study aids he presumed, but didn't bother to voice. Tyrol looked decidedly out of place in his flight deck uniform. He had voiced his opinion about being here, but as he was the closest thing Adama had to a proper engineer, there wasn't much option in the matter. Ensign Jardin was running pictures back and forth from the astrometrics lab as they were developed. Helo was still in the CIC, as were Baltar and Duella whom were still attempting to communicate.

What else was there? Oh yes. Helo had pressed for the Cylon Sharon to help, giving an alternate view. Adama was still thinking that over, mulling about the possibilities. On one hand, the idea that she was an honest defector still had some possibilities to it. And if he thought about the Sharon currently in the Brig as the (less evil?) twin of the one who shot him...

On the other hand, she was a Cylon. Who knew where its loyalties lay really?

"Let's get this meeting started." He finally started, straightening up in the process. Major Adama and Colonel Tigh on the Pegasus will not be in attendance for this, as they are getting their own men to do a similar analysis like ours. We'll compare notes afterward."

Ensign Jardin reappeared, almost tripping over the door frame in his haste. Another folder with pictures left his hands to be shared amongst those at the table.

"Thank you Ensign. How much more can we expect?" It was the President who offered the question as she passed some more pictures down to Tyrol. For the most part she didn't understand half the things passing through her hands, but was there both as President as well as for providing a non-military view on the entire subject.

"Not much, Madame President." The Ensign put his hands on the ends of the table and examined the pictures of the Xeno fleet in their relative positions. "We still have to process some of the more advanced measurements taken. Should be done in about 10 to 15 minutes."

"Thank you."

"Admiral," Tyrol spoke up, "the more I look at these pictures, the more I simply don't see them as Military. Armed, certainly, but not military."

"Alright, I'll bite. Why is that?" Laura spoke up, feeling like she was trying to coax a student into doing a proper presentation. Something so absurdly normal that she had to fake a cough to cover the smile that played across her face. It didn't fool Adama for a moment, who threw her a scowl to help her self-control.

"Well President, for starters, none of them look like like ships of war. Too boxy. You compare this one", he tossed a picture of a squared off ship with two long prongs pointing out what she assumed was the front, "to the shape of any Colonial warship. Proper combat ships have sloped or curved hulls to help deflect the impact of canon rounds. Flat hull plating like on this ship won't deflect unless the shot comes in on an angle, which isn't a guarantee, especially if the enemy has missiles capable of mid-course corrections."

Laura nodded. "But it does have weapons. This here is marked as a possible missile launcher, and these two things on the sides are labeled as cannons."

"The launcher is far too exposed." Adama spoke up. "We and the Cylons embed our own launchers inside the hull so that enemy fire doesn't blow them off." He ran a finger along the image. "And these 'canon' emplacements on the side? They have a large blind spot below the ship."

There were nods around the table. "But what about this curved one?" Once again the President fell into the habits of teaching to get her students to speak up.

"That one has a whole host of other problems." Tyrol spoke again with a slight tinge of disgust. "If you look at the design, sure the curved hull would be great for minimizing the effect of weapons fire. And the over/under arrangement of those cannons could be better placed forward. But it's the forward that really needs working." He spun the picture around and placed it side by side with a different one that Laura didn't recognize. She saw the same outlines, but the coloring was all wrong.

"Here..." he continued, "the exhaust plume from this ship shows engines along the back spine of the ship. Now, that makes sense from an engineering standpoint as you can distribute the stresses around the outside of the hull better. Problem comes with the other side, the one away from the engines. This huge cutout in the hull has no obvious docking benefit and should it get into combat, sloping the armor inwards like that will only funnel enemy fire into the ship. That's suicide in a battle."

"Which really makes me think these ships were never built for combat, but refitted with extra weapons." Adama made an observation public that many were holding privately. "Also, look at their formation. "It's not arranged to protect their large ship, rather it looks more like a parade formation, one to showcase your ships rather than for any practical purpose."

Laura didn't see it, but trusted Adama in this regard. "Can you tell us anything about the weapons these people have, or is this a case of 'not enough information'?"

"Actually, yes." Tyrol once again pointed at the box ship. "You know sir, we really need to assign reporting names to all these classes." That comment was directed at Adama who grunted a non-committal response. People were already calling them Xenos, official reporting names would come naturally after that.

The Admiral grunted, giving leave for Tyrol to continue. "You see, Madame President, most of the weapons on the Galactica and Pegasus can be set flush to the hull when not in use. When combat starts, the weapons raise themselves and do their thing. These protrusions, if they are cannons, have a fixed shell around them. This severely limits their ability to track targets, even if there is a proper gimbal mount underneath. There is also the issue of mass – a shell like that, even if it does act to armor the weapon underneath causes mechanical problems with heat dissipation and repairs. Colonial systems are designed open in order to maximize heat transfer back onto the main hull as well as ease of access for repairs." The deck chief took a quick sip of water.

"What he's trying to say is that such developments were rejected by the Colonial Military for heavy weapons because of inefficiencies in dealing with Cylons." The Old Man tried to summarize the points Tyrol was making.

"So if these ships aren't meant for combat, but are armed anyways, what does that mean?"

"Pirates, mostly." It was Ensign Jardin who spoke up this time, having been quiet when not running back and forth. "It seems to me that these are after-market modifications to these ships designed to give them some ability to fight off raiders or the like."

Adama nodded. "I agree. It would also explain their actions if they aren't military, but some sort of civilian mining or survey group."

"Wait. Wait." Laura waved a hand over the planning board. "Slightly off topic, but if these ships have their own guns to defend themselves, why can't we do the same for the ships in the Fleet?"

"We used to do that, back during the Cylon War, Madame President." Adama began as he dredged through his memories. "You see, the Colonies still needed to move resources around to help in the war effort. Before the War, ships would come and go according to their own individual needs. But with the Cylons attacking shipping, the Colonial Navy began to organize ships into convoys and assign military ships for their protection. Some ships were equipped with deck guns to fend off the occasional Raider or six. Some ships were even turned into Q-ships, where they looked like normal freighters on the outside, but had plenty of guns and missiles hidden under blow-away panels." He paused, ordering his thoughts. "You remember when we attacked the mining asteroid for fuel? How we put Vipers underneath cargo containers? That was a tactic developed during the War. The current setup of the Fleet – how the ships are arranged – are also the result of strategies developed back then."

Laura nodded in understanding. The Pegasus and Galactica did stay on the outsides of the fleet, acting as their guardians. "But you didn't answer my question, Bill."

"The reason why we don't is three-fold, Madame. First is resources. We would need to figure out which ships can safely be modified to handle the stresses of firing weapons around. One mistake, and a flak gun could rip itself off the hull, creating a breach that would do the Cylon's job for them. Then we would need to train the users of those weapons, station them on those ships around the fleet. Arm them, maintain them. Neither the Galactica or the Pegasus have that kind of ability to them. And then there is the risk of friendly fire, or rather, not-so-friendly fire between the ships in the fleet. One itchy trigger, one accident and we could loose a ship." Adama finished speaking, Roslyn running these thoughts over in her head.

"I think I understand. I can imagine the sort of headaches that would cause."

There was some silence around the table. "Here's a problem that I know I will face. If these people are civilians, then it stands to reason that they may not have representatives of their government with them. I have to argue with the Quorum about how to deal with that."

Adama shook his head. "I'm not one for politics, Madame President. But we can expect that they would have sent their equivalent of a Raptor back to wherever they came from. Actually, if I recall, one of those Boxers didn't jump in with the rest of the fleet. Perhaps that was the ship they sent?" Adama realized that he had given a firm reporting name to the ship in question and inwardly sighed. Was he just getting old?

"Gods. So we can expect a proper response soon? What have the Raptors found in nearby systems?" The President started watching the situation spiral out of her control. Now that she thought about it, she really didn't have much control in the first place. Baltar was handling developing communications while Adama and Lee were responsible for the military side of things should the shooting start.

Her role in all this would only come after they learned to talk to these people, assuming of course that they don't speak in colors and eight-tones. Or looked like... things. She suppressed a shudder. "What about their fighters?"

Adama replied with a prepared response. "They have two classes that we've seen so far. One is smaller, about half again the mass of our Raptors as far as we can tell, but has a large Electronic signature. We've tagged it as a Reconnaissance fighter of some sort, probably a dedicated platform unlike our own multi-purpose Raptors. The other fighters - if you can call them that – are large units, a good 4 to 5 times larger than our Vipers. No idea what they're armed with, but we've seen their engines in action and they fly pretty well." But we've only seen ten of them in patrol around the Xeno fleet."

Laura wasn't sure what to make of that. On one hand, they had more Vipers than they had fighters. But as she had seen with battles against the Cylons, smaller numbers of better fighters can more than hold their own against a greater multitude of lessers.

Tyrol coughed to draw attention to himself. "Going back to the subject of ships with guns, take a look at this one here. The one that looks like some sort of potato." A pause while pictures were shuffled around. "It is a small ship, relatively speaking, with at least five cannons on it, nothing else."

"How big?"

"75 to 100 meters maybe?" Tyrol looked down. "She's a pure gunship. Any crew she might have would have next to no amenities. Probably transfer on and off their big ship. In a fight, that would be something to kill first." He looked at Adama who nodded. Something that small might not be able to take solid hits from the heavy weapons on the Battlestars, removing them from combat.

The Admiral looked at the one ship they had yet to go over. "The big one. Between the Galactica and Pegasus in length, but the hanger section under the nose gives makes her taller, if not wider."

"And this protrusion on the side. It really looks like a huge gun to me." The President pointed out.

"Can't be. It's off center." Tyrol countered. "A gun that huge would have monstrous recoil unless most of that mass was dedicated to shock and recoil compensation. If it didn't, then being off the center of mass would mean that firing it would cause immense rotational stresses on the hull. Given that the ship was obviously not designed to get into a fight, I think we can safely dismiss the possibility."

"But it's so obvious. What use would it have?"

"We don't know, President Roslyn." Adama replied as he looked at a clock. "I think we can wrap this up. There's not a lot we can decide on at this point. Not without more information. This meeting is adjourned. Chief Tyrol, thank you for your presence. Madame President, if you would like to join me back in the CIC, we can talk with the Pegasus to see what they came up with."

The pitch of activity changed around the War Room as the Admiral made his way aft towards the CIC. Jardin collected the pictures to file them properly and Tyrol headed back down to the hanger deck, hoping that Cally hadn't blown anything up yet.

When Adama and Roslyn entered the CIC, they were greeted by an exuberant Baltar raising his hands in victory proclaiming - "They breathe air!"


	7. Chapter 3  Action

**Bridge**, _Kuun-Lan, _**Arrival +3 Hours**

"Elements?" Teigor looked up from the report that scrolled across his screen at the Intelligence Matron, who only nodded.

"Yes, Fleet." She alone had the privilege of sitting where she wanted on the Kuun-Lan, she had been the head of Security for the Kiith Somtaaw back on Hiigara, and was one of the oldest people to go onto the Mothership. She sat where she wanted to sit, and so Teigor Somtaaw, perhaps the most powerful person in the Kiith, stood beside his own seat.

"So, explain it to me. How does describing atomic numbers help us, or them for that matter? Sure, it will help with chemistry in the future, but wouldn't we be better off trying to figure out who they are, where they are from and what they are doing here with two near-Mothership-class vessels armed with enough obvious weapons to fight off a Turanic Fleet?"

Maaki suppressed a sigh. "Teigor, our own language was passed to us from the First Exiles from Hiigara, Galactic Standard. Of course our Exile brought with it changes in our language base, but there wasn't enough drift to make us unintelligible to the other races of the Galaxy. They must be a species that evolved by itself, isolated. And I am disappointed that you would expect them to magically know Standard."

The elder of the two paused a moment to order her thoughts, then spoke more. "Language is a complex thing, Fleet. IT is not a thing of logic and rationality. Rather it is a living organism that absorbs, grows and sheds words as the time and circumstances change."

"I know!" Teigor put a halt to her lesson. "I know. It's just not something that I'm really prepared to deal with." His own voice dropped. "Sure, the AI is trying to piece together something we can use, but it is just so slow. And teaching each other how to describe the air we breathe doesn't seem like it's getting us closer."

"You're growing impatient, Fleet. And knowing that we breathe the same mixture of gasses means that there is the good possibility of our two peoples could meet face to face."

"Perhaps I am impatient, Intelligence. Perhaps I am. But the months of fighting the Beast changed all of us. If we were still just a Mining Kiith, I would still have the patience for all this. I think we would talk about which resources each fleet wanted, take the ones the other did not, then properly divide the rest. But now, I have to worry over everything, see threats where there are none." Tiegor seemed to deflate a little as he spoke.

"You're getting paranoid in your old age." Maaki couldn't help but smirk a little. "You'll get used to it. For now, the best thing you can do is simply relax and await the people under you to do their job as they see fit."

"Is this your way of suggesting that I leave, oh, say, Bra in charge while I go to my quarters and rest?"

"I'm an old woman, Fleet. I know when I need to sit down. Do you?"

**CnC, **_Battlestar __Galactica, _**Arrival +4 Hours**

Baltar was having fun. No, not the kind of fun that got him through the day, but rather he was actually enjoying the challenge presented to him for the first time since before the Fal... No. He didn't want to think about that. Especially not with _her_ over his shoulder.

He took a moment to muse about the various problems that were thrown his way simply because they were remotely scientific in nature. Quick! We need a Cylon Detector, get Gaius Baltar! He's a genius! Except of course, he knew next to nothing about biology (except agriculture, but that didn't count) and therefore had to lean heavily on the expertise of Doctor Cottle to figure out what needed doing. Although his muse prompting him to ask for a nuclear weapon did help out a bit.

Oh yes! How could he forget the time when they needed a strategic planner to magically (ha!) divine the best place to shoot a Cylon mining and refining facility to disable it without blowing the entire asteroid into little pieces! Gaius! Choose a random point on the picture, and hope for the best!

They weren't even _remotely_ related to his actual field of expertise, Computer Programming. But they went to him anyways because there was no one else available. Now, this, this was part of his calling. A new and exciting venture where his skills in teaching machines to think would come in handy!

Alright, he had to admit that sending radio pulses back and forth with the Xeno Fleet wasn't really programming, but when you got down to it, language was language, whether it was machine code, or with other living things. There were nouns, Proper and not, verbs and syntax – although he was no fool to assume the syntax would be the same. And some things transcended words. Like math. He and Dee were working hard not only to teach, but to learn from the Xeno fleet.

And doing so without the help of his crimson-clad muse. She was still ever present about him, her touch, her hair, her voice, her smell... Her perfection a distraction as he and the person on the other end of the wireless exchanged the basics of pure mathematics.

"You think them people, Gaius?" She spoke into his ear. "What if they are like the Cylons, more metal than flesh?" Her words sent a shiver down his spine, not from the concept but rather from the proximity.

He cast a quick glance at Lt. Dee to make sure she wasn't paying attention before whispering his own reply. "It doesn't matter, does it? Isn't that what you were trying to tell us? Besides, these people tried to communicate first with words, not with guns. We have to try."

"You don't even know who or what they are, my Gaius. They could be beasts for all you know, or their slayers. And yet you try so hard to talk to them." The Cylon in his head ran a hand down the inside of his shirt as she kept speaking. "I wonder why you didn't try that with the Cylons around you?"

"I'm more worried about what would happen if these people met the Cylons, and one side didn't give the other the same chance we are." He replied to her as well as raising his voice just a little to speak to Duella at the same time. Gods, he missed the days when he could hold two conversations at the same time. He had been slipping.

But the real human was busy doing her own thing while doing her own thing, sending him a hushing glare while the fake Cylon only shook her head. "Oh, dear Gaius – do you really worry for them so? And not for those around you? That is so gentle of you." The tone of her voice spoke more than the words did. To Baltar's ears, there was the ever-present hint of volatile arrogance that underlined everything she said. Oh, she tried to hide it, but Gaius had heard enough of her to know it at heart. And above that layer was the reproachment for thinking about just the Cylons and not the Humans; he thought while the topmost layer spoke highly of his concern for those who would kill him in the beat of whatever mechanism passed for their hearts.

Duella for her part was working on a lexicon. While Gaius was brilliant at getting the basic concepts across, in his rush for greater knowledge, he forgot that most people didn't speak in numbers, but in words. So she had berated him until he had given her the time to try and attach Colonial words to the things they were describing, then communicating them to the Xenos where they would reply with their own words.

So far it was mostly math and scientific terms that they had, but sometimes, other concepts went through. Like 'Yes' and 'No'. Her heart swelled with pride that she was doing something that no other Colonial had ever done, not even when they dwelled on Kobol. She was speaking to honest-to-the-Gods Aliens!

Her joy was always quickly tempered by the memory of all who had died. So many billions lost who would never know this truth. Frakking Cylons. But another part of her countered that without the Cylon Holocaust, there would have been no need to go so far from the bounty of the Twelve Colonies and into the arms of the Xenos.

Back to the issue at hand, she forced herself. It had been fairly easy to determine that both the Colonials and the Xeno's both used a base-ten system for their mathematics. From there, they and their unseen equals had built up their lexicon of words past a hundred. Baltar was working on how best to describe the natural elements when Dee decided to respond to his comment about the Cylons. "We haven't seen them in months, Doctor. And besides, we are here now. Let's worry about the future later. And who knows, maybe the Admiral and the President can make an alliance with them, and start a campaign to take back the Colonies."

Baltar wanted oh so very much to hit the girl for her daydream, but held back. Adama had claimed to know where Earth was and used that hope to keep the Fleet together. The hope of a future was a powerful incentive.

**Acolyte Combat Air Patrol, Between the **_Kuun-Laan_ **and the** _Galactica, _**Arrival +5 hours**

The Somtaaw and the Alien fleets had changed up the fighters flying their patrols, and Mahj fe Somtaaw was in the replacement flight. Mahj liked flying Acolytes, and since his first foray, had aced against the Taidann, the Turanics and the Beast. And right now, he liked running laps back and forth in front of the fleet. It was a refreshing change of pace. And looking at the radar returns of the other flight of Scouts across from him made him wonder how they would perform.

One of the things he didn't tell other pilots was that he was also a test pilot. It was unlucky to be known as one of the Black Suits that tested experimental and modified strike-craft. He was the first to fly the Bentusi Acolyte in the hellish hours of the final battle against the Beast, and now he was thinking about getting behind the controls of whatever that thing across from him was.

He figured that such a tiny ship had to be all engines and maybe a point defense gun. Well, he had heard that the engineers were trying to fit a proper laser weapon onto an Acolyte, but nothing had come of it yet. Maybe these people had figured it out? Would explain why such a small ship would fly without an escort.

Oh, what did he know? He was just a fighter pilot, not some Intel spook.

**CnC, **_Battlestar Pegasus_, **Arrival +5.5 Hours**

Deep in the Battlestar, plans were being drawn up. Around the central table of the more massive ship, Major Adama and his higher-ranked, but still subordinate XO, Saul Tigh, glared at the tactical plots.

"This is stupid. Really, frakking stupid. The Old Man wants us to plan a battle with these Xenos?" Saul expressed his displeasure as best he could given his respect for the elder Adama. "I know it's good experience, but still..."

"We agree on that, Colonel." Lee moved around the table, as though seeing the plot from a different angle would provide inspiration. It didn't. "So may unknown variables, so little we have available as options."

"Got that right. Whoever the Xenos are, they have a military mindset."

"As you've already said. The way they're organzing their ships speaks to that. I agree, and so does my father." Lee walked back to his original position. "Seriously though, a battle between us and them would be bloody. Even if we jumped into the perfect position, there is no way we can be sure that we can isolate a ship for capture and escape with it. Not to mention the chance that if we moved in like that, they would jump out right away."

"And you told the Admiral that?"

"You know I did, Tigh." Lee leaned over the plot, staring down to glare at the innocent board. "We're not a proper military any more. But planning a pirate op like this... It just rankles me. I don't want to do it."

"I hear you, kid. But the Old Man has given his orders, and we gotta come up with something." It was Saul's turn to switch sides around the table. "Listen, here's a piece of advice." His voice dropped to conspiracy levels. "Sometimes telling your superior officer that something is impossible is the wrong thing to do. They'll think you aren't trying hard enough. Instead, tell them that all your plans are bad ones."

Lee thought this over for a moment. "You want me to limit the Admiral's options, rather than...?" His own voice trailed off. As a Colonial Officer, he was well accustomed to the casual nature of being in his position. Reporting to your superiors, giving orders to his command, doing the paperwork involved... But.. manipulating a superior officer? An Admiral? His father? That was outside his experience. "I don't play politics." he finally said in confession.

"This is politics, Major. This is you doing the job the Old Man asked of you, but not in the way he expects." Tighs voice grew harsh, but still retained its calm and quiet tone. "Bill has other things on his mind, and he's trusting you to do the right thing. You tell him you can't do something, and he'll find someone who can. Tell him that it's a bad idea, and prove it, and he'll accept it."

Lee was torn. On one hand, he could understand on an intellectual level what Tigh was asking of him. He wouldn't be disobeying, or even misinterpreting. But still...

"Damn it, Tigh. You know I can't go against the Admiral like that. Even if it is for the best reasons. We don't have a full Fleet anymore. Just the Bucket and the Beast. It's a small family, and one that I can't just go against." Lee stopped just short hissing at his XO. "I will thank you kindly to never suggest anything like that again."

Tigh removed himself from their hushed conversation. Privately, he was pleased with Lee's rejection of his idea. It was the job of the XO to be hated, and Saul knew he was too good at the role to ever be in command of the _Galactica_ or the _Pegasus_. As much as people complanied behind his back (his wife, first and foremost), he knew that the Old Man had made the best decision for everyone involved.

Didn't mean he had to like it, or like the running of Lee through the paces needed to make him a proper Commander.

_Cloud Nine_**, Colonial Exodus Fleet, Arrival +6 Hours**

"I'm going to get you!" the Cylon strode with purpose towards the helpless human. The victim of the impending attack couldn't move from where she lay, so instead her eyes were focused completely on the advancing Cylon. "And no one will save you!" Just for good measure, she threw in a laugh to go with it.

"Gina! Just tickle her already, why don't you?" A voice tinged with amusement and annoyance came from behind the blond Number Six.

"Fine. Come here Isis! Come to Aunty Gina!" The Cylon bent down and scooped up the baby, smiling as the little girl laughed at being swung so high above the ground. "Now, I think mommy Maya wants time with her little girl." She gently brought the child over to her mother, reuniting them.

The black haired woman cradled Isis in her arms, rocking back and forth as she made silly faces. After a couple moments of that, she looked up. "Thanks for watching over her, Gina. It's busy out there though."

Gina nodded in understanding. With the discovery of the Xeno Fleet hovering a mere two light-seconds away, there had been a call for a meeting of all the Cylons in the Fleet. Gina ignored it, and if anyone asked, she would tell them that she couldn't leave her cover. But her fellow Cylons had been giving her room for a while now. The distance from the Ressurection Hub was making them all the more careful of their actions.

The Starlight Lounge in particular had booming business, and Gina was using her break to help keep an eye on the baby. Common agreement by the employees of the lounge meant that Maya could work while everyone else took turns looking after the child for the entirety of the mother's shift. It was something that worked well. "Any news?" Gina asked as she rummaged around for her apron. Her duty station was behind the bar, serving drinks, so she normally stood underneath the wireless speakers as they were tuned to either music, or the daily news broadcasts. Being in the break room, she didn't have that benefit.

"No. The President is still on the _Galactica_. Someone on one of the mining ships found the frequency they're using to talk to the Xenos and tuned in, but all they got were weird beeps."

"Huh." Gina found her apron and quickly tied it on. "Well, I'll be out front. You going to be alright?"

"Yes." Maya didn't look at the Cylon, her eyes focused on her child. "We'll be good."

Gina left, closing the door behind her. It was only a short walk to the front, but that gave her plenty of time to think. Playing with the baby was not something she had any experience with before she started working in the Starlight Lounge. She, along with all Cylons, were not born as humans understood it, but downloaded when one died.

Actually, she recognized that she had side-stepped the actual question. Did the first copies of the 7 models spring forth fully cognizant of their nature, of their own society? It stood to reason that it was the truth given their origins in the Cylon War. Although her own memory was a bit fuzzy in that regard, she pondered talking to a One about the early days of the biological Cylons before pushing the thoughts out of her head.

That would require contact with one of them, and she wasn't ready for that. She would much rather be with Gaius. At least working here, no one was interested in 'her', but rather her assets, if that. Some of her best customers were the ones that ordered and paid for their drinks without trying to make a connection with her. The distance of the bar and counter between her and them certainly helped.

Up front, she quickly got back into the nature of her job, watering down the drinks due to the shortage of proper alcohol in the Fleet. Oh, sure, there were stills, but they were unofficial products, and there were problems with a legitimate place getting such cheap swill.

Instead she kept pouring drinks, taking the cubits as they came to her while keeping one ear to the wireless for more news.

Of course, it despite the low alchohol content of the drinks she served, some people simply drank more to get their buzz. And in this particular case, the offender was a man whom she hadn't seen around before.

"We should just take them!" he yelled out suddenly. Some of the other patrons seemed to mumble in agreement while others were confused. Gina quickly glanced at the bouncer who nodded and moved between the tables to the offending person. "Just attack the frakking Xenos and take their stuff!" he cried out again, this time slamming his glass hard on the table. Gina winced slightly, hoping he didn't crack it. There were no replacements for them, and repairs were difficult at best.

Why in God's name was she getting worked up over a piece of glass? She mentally chided herself for such a mundane concern while watching the bouncer take no joy in removing the disturbance from the premesis. It was his job.

Gina sighed and poured out another drink while one of her co-workers collected the now-abandoned drink. Once in her hands, she examined it and was grateful to find no new defects. But the drunks words did strike at her.

Why didn't the Colonials simply attack the Xenos? She shook her head. No, now was not the time to be thinking thoughts like that. She wasn't human, to act without regards for the consequences.

_Colonial One,_ **Colonal Exodus Fleet, Arrival +8 Hours**

"Thank you for all for coming." Laura spoke to the assembled reporters, her voice carried across the fleet, and - after confirming with the Admiral that it was alright - also transmitted towards the Xeno ships. "Yes, this is about what you are expecting, so I, and Captain Agathon, Executive Officer of the _Galactica_ shall give a briefing on our status. Please hold your questions until after we are done speaking.

"Firstly, as most of you have already surpised, or just outright guessed, yes, we are in contact with a non-Colonial spacefaring civilization."

As she and Helo expected, the crowd of reporters exploded into a cacphony of excited questions that were indistinguishable from one another. Captain Agathon leaned in to the President and whispered. "Madame, does this sort of thing happen all the time?"

Without the smile leaving her face, Roslyn answered back, "Why do you think the Admiral sent you instead of coming himself."

A healthy sense of dread found its way into Helo's heart. This, he realized, was politics. He wished that right now he could be dog-fighting Starbuck in a Mark I while she was in a Mark VII. That, at least, he had a chance of doing.

At the President's urging, he moved to the podium and began to speak.

**Advanced Material Sciences (Armor) Module,** _Kuun-Lan, _**Arrival +12 Hours**

Frea walked back and forth before the spectrography machine. Normally she wouldn't be this impatient with the computer coming back with the results of her scans, but in Karan's Name, why couldn't she be doing something worthwhile, like examining that beautiful piece of rock and dust the Aliens were huddled around?

But nooOOOooo. Instead, she had been ordered by Intelligence to analyze the armor compositions of the two alien motherships, esepcially the smaller one given the multiple layers that were visible. Her console went ding, and the disply lit up with multiple results. A rotating graphic indicated the most-probable matrix of the layers of armor while more mundanely presented information scrolled past her uncaring eyes. Without bothering to see what revelations were made, Frea packaged all the information and forwarded it to the Intelligence Division. Let them do their own work for once, she had more important things to look at. And just for spite, she made it low priority.

_Majahaul_, **Colonial Exodus Fleet, Arrival +20 hours**

After nearly a day of no overt action between the fleets, the Admiral had ordered the mining ship to resume the mining and processing of the asteroid that had been interupted by the arrival of the Xenos. After some hesitation, the captain complied, trusting in the might and bulk of the two battlestars to protect him and his people from whatever attacks may come.

**Bridge**, _Kuun-Lan_, **Same Time**

Bra looked up when he was told about the motion in the alien convoy. One of the ships in close proximity to the asteroid had moved to dock with the rock. He wasn't a Miner himself, but his experiences with the crew of the _Kuun-Lan_ had given him a sense of the procedures involved.

He noted the actions and quickly confirmed his thoughts with those around him. On the holographic displays, Bra authorized changing the wire-frame colouring of the asteroid from neutral grey to the alien green.

The Kiith Somtaaw were many things in their history. Priests, Scholors, Miners, Mercenaries, Warriors. But they were not claim jumpers.

**Somtaaw Deacon-Class Destroyer** _Distant Stars_**, Deep Space, Arrival +22 Hours**

Mor Somtaaw and his small loyal crew had the unenviable position of being a courier and messenger in an era when FTL communications were the norm. Of course, he mused as the incandescence of Hyperspace gave way to the perfect dark of space, how fast your message went meant nothing when you didn't know where the recipient was.

Thus, he and his ship were making hyperspace jumps of about 100 light years apiece, then broadcasting in every direction with a general hail for the Bentusi. The Unbound Traders kept their own routes and schedules throughout the galaxy. Although they did take care to respect the traffic control of the worlds they visited, lest they be turned away for breaking local laws.

It was routine, really. Jump, broadcast while waiting for the hyperdrives to recharge, listen for any sort of response. Jump again. They were headed in the general direction of a Republic Fleet Base – one that used to fly the Imperial Flag before the Civil War, where they knew there would be a good chance of finding a Bentusi vessel or finding someone who knew where one was.

"Hyperspace Wavefront detected! Intercept course!" The call came from his Navigation officer, who doubled as a sensors operator in the cramped hull.

Of course, when he is told that someone is coming, you hope for the best, but expect the worst. Paranoia could save your life from an ambush. "Arm weapons, but keep them locked down, bring us about to face the incoming wavefront." His ship slowly shifted about to face the direction of the incoming jump, the holographic display in front of him showing the vector as well as the predicted exit point based on the decreasing power in the wave.

It predicted emergence practically on top of his ship – an accuracy that could only be attributed to the Bentusi. It was a good sign, but until he saw that golden-lit curved hull, he would be vigilant of a possible attack. "Ion cannons charged, missile racks loaded. Plasma and kinetic defenses online." The reports came in quickly and professionally just as the FTL wavefront collapsed into real-space.

Mor heaved a sigh of relief as the Bentusi ship appeared in normal space 'above' his ship and to his port. "YOU CALLED FOR US?" The voice of the Bentusi was full of power and grace, wisdom and understanding. But Mor still heard the person behind it. He had lived through the Beast War.

A nod, and a reply channel was opened. "Yes. I am Mor Somtaaw of the Kiith Somtaaw. At the behest of Teigor Somtaaw, we have come asking you for your wisdom and experience." It also didn't hurt at all to flatter the person who could blow his ship out of the sky with nary a scratch in return. "Our flagship, the Kuun-Lan, encountered a fleet several hours ago inside the Great Wastelands. This fleet had two Mothership-classed vessels of a design unknown to us, or the records we have. This ship and her crew were sent to beseech your help in this regard as if this is a new race emerging into the galaxy, the Bentusi have infinitely more experience in this regard than we do."

A pause came from the speakers, one gravid with tense anticipation. Mor had spent these past few hours rehearsing in his mind how he would approach the mighty Bentusi about this. Diplomacy wasn't his strong suit, but he was a good trader before he was shoehorned into flying [i]Deacons[/i]. He never made it back. But that was in the past. Right now, he had to dredge up those old negotiation skills to to fore of his mind and apply them to those who would be as Gods among men.

"WE HAVE NOT HEARD ANY NEW WHISPERS IN THE VOID FROM THE REGION OF YOUR SHIP." Mor didn't bother to ask how the Bentusi knew where the [i]Kuun-Lan[/i] was, but he did resolve to bring that up at the next Captain's Meeting. Perhaps they were simply keeping track of an investment? Or perhaps a friend? The Bentusi kept speaking, unaware of the thoughts of the smaller being. "BUT SUCH THINGS ARE NOT IMPOSSIBLE. OUR EARS HEAR MANY THINGS AND SOMETIMES THE SMALL SLIP BY OUR NOTICE." There was note of apology in the voice. Or was it the acceptance of failure?

"Then you will come to investigate?"

"OF COURSE. WE TRUST YOUR WORDS, KIITH SOMTAAW. BUT NOT THIS ONE. ANOTHER IS CLOSER AND HAS ALREADY BEGUN TO MOVE TO YOUR SHIP. NOW, I MUST GO." With that, a hyperspace window opened up before the Tradeship and it vanished into the realm outside real-space. "RETURN TO YOUR PEOPLE, SOMTAAW, AND AWAIT OUR ARRIVAL." Then the Bentusi was gone.

Around the bridge, a collective breath was released, the tension gone from the air. Mor looked at his crew. "You heard them, people. Fleet will be having a visitor soon. Charge the Hyperdrive for a jump back to the _Kuun-Lan_. Communications, send a tach-pulse back to the fleet alerting them of our success." The distance involved meant that voice or video communications were impossible with the Tachyon comm system, so they had to settle for code-pulses that would convey their message for them. "When the core is charged, initiate the jump."

**Bentusi Ship, Hyperspace, Arrival +23 Hours**

What the Bound and Unbound saw in Hyperspace were two different things. In many ways, the Bentusi saw in hyperspace with the same awe that the newly risen races held the star themselves. Things of wonderous beauty that the Bentusi wished that they could share, if only the Bound had the eyes to see with.

This bout of melancholic thought was brought forth by the summons from the Kiith Somtaaw. A race, from the Wastelands? Was such a thing possible?

A distracted thought and the Bentusi once again turned their attentions outwards, locating with familiar quickness the Hyperspace Core of the [i]Kuun-Lan[/i]. Even from this distance, the Bentusi could tell that the core was charged, but not yet ready to jump. With the not-light of the _Kuun-Lan_ to act as a guidepost, the consorts of that ship could be seen as fainter lights. But where were the lights of the other cores of this new race?

Perhaps the power and might of the _Kuun-Lan_ overshadowed them? It was possible. There was more, in the view of the Bentusi, to the ability to traverse Hyperspace than mere technology – machines and math. It was a spiritual experience for them, and they all wanted to share it with all those who had chosen to become Unbound.

Eager to meet this new mystery, the Bentusi moved faster still.

**Empty Space, Two kilometers from the** _Kuun-Lan_, **Arrival +24 hours**

"WE ARRIVE." The hearld-call of the Bentusi came scant seconds before the Hyperspace wavefront began to collapse into real-space. Across the bridge of the Somtaaw ship, familar actions took place to prepare for the arrival of the Tradeship.

Bra had never seen a Bentusi ship personally before. He was looking forward to it, all things considered. Of course, his desire to watch the great ship arrive was tempered by the fact that he still had a job to do. Teigor was using him as a personal assistant, running messages to people around the bridge where having a person speak directly to you was more likely to get a response than a written message that could be delayed.

All that flashed through his head as he turned to face the viewscreen that had changed focus to show the space in which the Tradeship was predicted to arrive.

As the golden wavefront emerged, first as a mathematical point, then a line, then widening to a proper rectangle, Bra's first thought was that it was too big. The _Kuun-Lan_ and the Tradeships had similar cross-sections that they created comparably sized windows into the realm of faster than light travel.

Then the ship began to emerge, and he knew that it was too big. And shaped wrong. But still Bentusi. Where the Tradeships where blocky constructs, this ship was elegantly curved, a massive keyhole in space. Angled hull plating protected the glowing warmth of the internal stucture. Where Tradeships were over a kilometer long, this massive creation stretched for four to five times that length.

Silence ran through the shocked Somtaaw. They had seen the Tradeships, the Barges, and held in their hands the Bentusi Acolytes. This was something different, something both new and impossibly old.

"THIS IS BENTUS, THE HARBORSHIP. WE ARRIVE."


End file.
